


so much more than space dust

by ad_asterism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injured Lance, Injury, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Langst, M/M, Memory Loss, Mutual Pining, PINING KEITH, Pidge has they/them pronouns, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Red Paladin Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, Violence, Whump, hunk and lance have a beautiful friendship, klance, klangst, oblivious lance, pls save me from myself, u can pry mutual pining from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 09:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_asterism/pseuds/ad_asterism
Summary: “Allura!”“-get him out of there-”“It’s too soon, it’s not-”“Look at him!”Lance wasn’t sure where he ended and the stars began. Maybe he was the stars, maybe he’d always just been the pain and the stars and the voices.“-OUT OF THE POD!”When a cryopod malfunctions, Lance is left with amnesia. As he struggles to figure out where he fits in the new formation of the team, the rest of Voltron is racing against the clock to figure out where Lotor will strike next- and their only clue is hidden somewhere in Lance's lost memories. Lance will have to find a way to remember what he's missing- or come to terms with what he's forgotten.





	1. calcium in our bones

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely purgamentoram for keeping my characters in character and adding dick jokes where dick jokes are required. You're my favourite weird cat person/latin trashcan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Allura!”
> 
> “-get him out of there-”
> 
> “It’s too soon, it’s not-”
> 
> “Look at him!”
> 
> Lance wasn’t sure where he ended and the stars began. Maybe he was the stars, maybe he’d always just been the pain and the stars and the voices.
> 
> “-OUT OF THE POD!”

The stars were spinning. 

The stars were spinning, but Lance wasn’t afraid; he moved among them as his own constellation. As they revolved slowly around him, he sank his fingers into the blue dust of the galaxy, running his fingers through its edges, pouring nebulas between his hands. The lights glimmered around him, swirling like waves. If he kicked a little, he could create enough momentum to push himself up through the glowing mass, sending stars rippling away in his wake. It felt like swimming in the ocean, more than anything, a thick blue ocean with points of fire dancing all around him, dreamy, safe.

He felt perfectly at home, as though he knew the exact shape of the universe and how he fit into it. He saw everything at once, all perfect and whole and complete, and he could see how his body was the universe too, becoming whole again, perfect and complete and made of stars. He was so at peace. When was the last time he had felt like this?  
Lance was cupping a white dwarf star between his hands, marveling at its warmth, when he felt a jolt in his chest. The bluish galaxy shifted colour abruptly, bathing everything around him in a hazy, purplish red glow. All at once he could hear a strange noise- a harsh, grating sound, muffled as though he was hearing it from underwater, and suddenly the star he was holding started burning in his grip. He let go, palms raw, and tried to brush the star away from him- but the sudden movement carried him into the star cluster behind him. They burned him too, the pain excruciating after the peace he had felt only moments ago. He thrashed and kicked, trying to escape, but he was in the thick of the galaxy, drowning in stars. The pain sank through his skin, whipping through his veins, burning white-hot into his bones, and the noise was louder now, a familiar noise- an alarm? It blared in short, sharp, bursts, and now he could hear something else, too, another sound he knew. He struggled harder- what was it? Where were they- and suddenly he knew, yes, those were voices- and the sounds turned into words-

“happening-”

“malfunctioned, I can’t-”

The pain was unbearable-

“Allura!”

“-get him out of there-”

“It’s too soon, it’s not-”

“Look at him!”

Lance wasn’t sure where he ended and the stars began. Maybe he was the stars, maybe he’d always just been the pain and the stars and the voices.

“-OUT OF THE POD!”

He knew that voice, knew it when it wasn’t so angry, too, but before he could think any more, the spinning sensation was replaced by freefall. Lance felt a sense of loss, like the breath being knocked out of him, as all the clarity and unity slid out of his reach for good- but just before everything went white, he thought he felt hands, catching him.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lance was woken by the sound of hushed voices. He floated for a little bit in the happy place between dreaming and awake, wishing they’d shut up. He’d been dreaming about something good. The ocean, maybe. He thought that if he just kept his eyes closed he could drift back into his dream, if they’d only be quiet and let him. No such luck, though. 

He started to make out words in the whispering.

“But what if he wakes up?” 

“It’ll be fine, okay?” More unintelligible murmuring, then: “...need to sleep.” Then the smooth whir of the door, followed by heavy footsteps. A pause, and a sigh from somewhere close by.

Lance opened his eyes.

He was in his room in the castle. Everything looked the same- his bed, his clothes on the floor, his robe hanging on its hook... except, for some unfathomable reason, Hunk was sitting in a chair next to his bed, looking drawn and tired.

“Hey, big guy,” said Lance, sitting up. Or, at least, he tried to sit up- something went wrong halfway and he found himself propped sideways on his elbow, feeling like his esophagus had tried to make a break for it.

“Whoa, whoa whoa,” said Hunk, leaping up and quickly steadying Lance. “Maybe don’t try sitting up just yet, hey?”

Lance’s head was spinning, and he couldn’t seem to focus in properly on Hunk’s face. “What are you doing in my room, dude?” His voice sounded weird, he noticed, and kind of scratchy, as though he had a cold. 

“What?” said Hunk. “What do you mean?”

Lance laughed, and his side twinged. Weird. “I mean, you don’t normally watch me sleep, right? Far as I know. Hm, maybe this is just the first time I’ve caught you?”

At this, Lance tried to waggle his eyebrows in a signature move, but they were too weak and he, still slightly delirious, ended up more closely resembling a klingon.

Hunk cracked a smile, but his thick brows were still crinkled together with concern. “You’ve been out for days, man,” he said. “Of course we’re gonna have someone with you round the clock. I’m glad to see you’re feeling like yourself, though.”

Lance processed this. “Okay, fair. That actually explains why I feel like I got mauled by a clanmurel. But still- why are you here? Like in my room? Shouldn’t I be, I dunno, falling out of a cryopod into a circle of unbelievably happy faces?” He felt at his side. “And are these bandages?” He looked up at Hunk quizzically.

“There’s been- I mean, um. The cryopods aren’t exactly….operational right now. So we kinda had to patch you up the old-fashioned way”

“Hm.” Lance poked at the bandages. “Weird. This actually, like….hurts. Guess I got spoiled by having so much weird alien tech around.”

Hunk took his hand and guided it away from his wounded side, his brows knit and dark eyes full of concern. “Be careful, ok? I actually think I’d better get Allura to have a look at you. She’ll want to talk to you, anyway, now that you’re up, and the others will all be glad you’re finally awake.” He stood up from Lance’s bedside. “Think you can walk?”

Lance pushed himself up experimentally, but the strange dizziness seemed to be gone. “Of course I can, buddy! Let’s go!”

It turned out that Lance could not, in fact, go. They got about twenty feet down the hallway before Hunk picked Lance up, over his loud, only semi-sincere objections. Thankfully, he put Lance down when they arrived at the door to the kitchen, and let him walk in (albeit with an arm slung securely over Hunk’s shoulders).  
The whole team was sitting around the table. Shiro and Allura were deep in conversation, and Coran was helping Pidge with what appeared to be an Altean cryptic crossword. The only person facing the door was Keith, who glanced up at them sullenly before doing a double-take and launching himself away from the table with a screech of chair legs on the floor. Lance only had a second to process his expression before Keith was hugging him tightly and burying his face into his shoulder. 

“Uh-”

Lance froze, unsure, but Hunk gently disengaged his arm from around his shoulders so that it slid off around Keith. Gingerly, Lance patted him on the back, heart pounding at an alarming rate.

Keith pulled back to look Lance in the face. 

“You’re okay!” he breathed, looking happy and relieved and something else that Lance couldn’t quite place. He had dark circles under his eyes.

“Yeah, haha,” said Lance, trying to make his voice sound at least kind of normal, as though this wasn’t completely weird. “Never been better, right?”

Keith hugged him tightly again, and now Lance was absolutely sure that he hadn’t woken up after all, because what the hell. 

“Hunk, what is he doing out of bed?” Lance hadn’t even noticed Allura get up, but now she was standing in front of him, looking piqued. 

“I thought you’d probably want to check in with him, since he’s awake. Plus I’m sure everyone wanted to see him-” Hunk’s eyes darted to Keith “-and his room’s a little small, right? He did fine getting here though, I think the worst is probably over. Right?”

“He really shouldn’t be walking…” Allura turned to Lance. “Well, since you’re here anyway I may as well check on your bandages.” She sighed. “You’d better sit down.”  
Keith helped him over to a chair, and, to his surprise, stayed hovering over him, lurking behind his chair. 

Lance winced as Allura helped him pull his shirt off. He was still too distracted by Keith’s uncharacteristically affectionate greeting to even make a joke about it, as Allura began to briskly unwrap his bandages. He jumped a little when Keith’s warm hand made contact with his shoulder. 

“Relax,” he told him, “you’re gonna be fine.”

“Stop moving,” snapped Allura.

Across the table, the other paladins were smiling at him. 

“It’s good to see-” Shiro started, but then suddenly Lance registered what he was seeing. Shiro. Shiro was back! They’d found him- when had they found him?

“Shiro!” Lance cried, feeling his chest flood with relief. He tried to stand, but Allura and Keith both shoved him back into his chair. Allura gave him a strange look, and he settled for leaning forward as much as she would let him. 

“Quiznak, Shiro, you’re back! Where have you been? What happened, did someone grab you during that last battle, did-” Lance faltered. Nobody else seemed glad that Shiro was okay, that he was back, that they’d be able to form Voltron again. In fact, all of their easy smiles were gone, replaced by looks ranging from ‘worry’ to ‘oh my god what weird alien drink did you have this time Lance’. 

“What?” he said, suddenly unsure. “What is it?”

“Lance…” said Pidge, “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” said Lance, attempting to gesture, “our leader? Shiro? MIA for weeks now?”

Hunk frowned. “Lance, we’ve had Shiro back for months.”

Lance stared around at all of them. “I...what?” But now that he was paying attention, he realized for the first time- they all looked a bit different. I mean- it was to be expected of Shiro, he’d been god knows where for ages, but the others- Pidge and Keith’s hair was definitely longer than it should’ve been. And did Hunk have a piercing?

“What’s going on…?” he said slowly, uncomfortably aware of Keith’s hand still on his shoulder.

Allura answered him with another question. “Lance, what is the last thing you can remember?”

Lance frowned, and his hand drifted down to the bandages still wrapped around his ribs. “We were in a battle…” Hunk nodded encouragingly, and his spirits lifted a little.

“Where was the battle?” Allura still looked grave.

“It was…. You know, um, that ice planet? We rescued the Xlem from that Galra slaver ship, and then had to crash-land it, right, and then… and then….” Lance could tell from his friends’ faces that somehow this wasn’t the right answer, but he pushed on. “And then…. I guess that’s when I got injured. Must’ve blacked out or something.” He frowns. “Don’t remember getting hit in the ribs, though.”

“Nothing else?” said Allura. “The slaver ship rescue is the last thing you can remember doing?”

Lance shook his head, and Keith pulled his hand away from his shoulder like he’d been burned. Something dark flashed across his face, and Lance’s stomach turned uncomfortably. “What is it?”

“Lance, you don’t remember being injured because you weren’t injured in that battle against the slavers.” Allura had the air of someone who had just come to a conclusion that they really didn’t like- Lance had seen that look on his mother more than once when she was lecturing him about his escapades. “You were hurt only yesterday. We battled the slavers more than seven months ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes hi hello this is incredibly short but there will be another chapter coming ASAP. this is the first fic I've actually wanted to put on the internet for real and i just wanted it out there. My beta says she'll only accept 7000 word chapters after this so i guess that's gonna be a thing? who knows, i literally wrote this because my friend gave me a prompt based on a movie i haven't seen and it was raining outside and I didn't want to walk home. am i supposed to have personal notes here??? idk
> 
> PS of course altean cryogenic/healing pods function on the ancient greek belief system that the body is a microcosm of the universe???? obviously???? how else would they work
> 
>  
> 
> PPS did u know there are 3 grams of iron in the human body that comes from long ago stars. people are cool and weird
> 
> the rating may change


	2. iron in our veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yes, I mean Red. Hello? Your lion? Giant space robot you’ve been flying since we got here? Ring a bell?” Keith looked like he was on the point of saying something, but Lance plowed on. “She’s got in my head somehow and now Blue won’t talk to me, I think Red must have done something to her and I just...” Lance blew out a breath, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. His temples were starting to ache. “Can you get her to stop?”
> 
> “Lance….” Keith had an unreadable look on his face. He spoke reluctantly, like every word was causing him physical pain. “Lance, I forgot that you wouldn’t know this. One of us probably should have told you earlier. I guess it just didn’t even occur to me, we’ve all gotten so used to it.” He took a deep breath. “You’re not the blue paladin anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this whole fic is just going to take place in the castle kitchen i guess

Lance couldn’t sleep. 

After their conversation in the kitchen, the others had all headed to bed, at Shiro’s insistence. “We can all talk more after we get some rest,” he’d said. 

Lance was too wired to sleep- maybe because he’d spent so long in the healing pod, and so much time asleep in the last few days. He kept reliving the conversation in his head, looking for some sort of loophole, some sign that this was all an extremely unfunny joke. After Allura’s initial explanation, he’d laughed. 

“Okay, guys, ha-ha. That’s really funny. But seriously, who found Shiro?”

“It’s no joke, my boy.” Coran had looked so serious. Lance couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked quite that serious- although, to be fair, apparently there were a lot of things that Lance couldn’t remember now.

It had been Coran who explained what had happened, once the team’s shock had worn off. The full explanation had been long-winded and full of words that Lance hadn’t properly understood, but Pidge and Hunk had nodded along the whole time, occasionally interjecting with questions or hypotheses. From what Lance could gather, the cryopods that they normally used to heal after battles had had a serious malfunction. The castle had some kind of energy surge while Lance was inside, and before they were able to fix it, it’d sent the pod’s settings haywire. The way Coran explained it was that the pod could tell how Lance was hurt, but had lost the fine controls to begin the healing process, and so had simply attempted to restore Lance to a previous, whole iteration of himself. (Pidge had made a “eureka” face at this, and called it a “full factory reset”). 

“So that’s why I can’t remember?” Lance had asked. 

Coran had twirled his moustache thoughtfully. “It would appear so, m’boy.”

“But Lance isn’t healed,” Hunk had pointed out. “Wouldn’t the factory reset mean that he’d be just as healthy as he was seven months ago?”

“I imagine because it was a rather crude solution, it was ineffective. Something like...what is your Earth expression, exactly? Using a large hammer to squash a fruit?”

“A sledgehammer to crack a nut,” said Shiro. “So it erased his memory before we got him out, but didn’t solve the actual problem?”

Coran stood, sweeping a stack of dirty dishes off the table and taking them over to the space dishwasher. “I thought my turn of phrase was more accurate to the situation, but yes, exactly.”

“But how do we get him back to how he was before the reset?” Keith, who had been silent up until then, had a stormy look on his face. “He can’t just not have those memories, he can’t just lose the last seven months of, of training, and bonding and everything!”

Coran made a face, but it was Allura who spoke up, her tone gentle. “We may not be able to. The pod doesn’t save any of those memories- it simply adjusted Lance’s interior mental state.”

“But the castle has the capability to save AI’s- it does have a memory bank, a full processor, the capacity for personality storage. Maybe we could find something there?” Pidge pointed out.

Allura had shaken her head. “The pod had no need to withdraw any of Lance’s memories into its AI database. Everything it did, it did inside Lance’s own body.”

“But-” 

“I’m sorry, Pidge. It’s a good thought, but… remembering is going to be up to Lance alone.”

Lying in the dim blue lights of his room, Lance ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. That was the whole problem, wasn’t it. Lance was alone on this one, and alone…. wasn’t exactly Lance’s strong suit. He was a great planner, yeah, but he’d always been a team player, you know? He needed the others around him, supporting him, loving him, reminding him that he was strong and necessary and needed. They were his family- his weird, surrogate space family.

But right now he wasn’t as strong and necessary, was he? His family had seven months of memories that he was missing. Right now he was the weakest link, missing time, missing information, not quite in step with what was going on. What did that mean for him? What did that mean for the team? What if they had trouble forming Voltron because he was missing things, missing experience, missing crucial information- what if Blue….

All of a sudden Lance sat up. What was he thinking- of course he wasn’t alone. He was never alone now, was he, not even in his own head. Feeling a huge sense of relief, he reached out into his mental connection with Blue, seeking her steady, reassuring presence, like a still pool of water at the back of his mind. Blue was always ready to comfort him, to help him out, or just to be there, feeling what he was feeling, gentle and reassuring while he worked through everything the universe threw at him. Or- she always had before, at least. 

Lance frowned. Something was off- usually, as soon as Lance opened their connection, Blue was there waiting, meeting him joyfully, welcoming him in. He probed their connection a little deeper- yes, she was definitely there, but for some reason, she was holding back, like a standoffish cat refusing to come to him. He reached out again, but she batted him away effortlessly. She’d put up some sort of barrier, some wall- it was as though the calm blue place where he wanted to be was frozen over and gone.  
Lance felt a lump rise in his throat. Great. Not even Blue wanted to talk to him. Had something happened? What couldn’t he remember? He felt his frustration leaking into their connection, and he tried to stop it, to dam the flow somehow. It didn’t work, of course- Blue always knew exactly what he was feeling. He felt her stir inside his mind, felt faint pangs of a knowing sympathy. It was almost too much to bear- even a giant, immortal robot was pitying him. Great. Fantastic. So helpful, Blue. He directed his irritation her way, hoping she’d open up.

The ice didn’t break, but he felt the faint rumble of her amusement. He felt her reach out from behind the strange barrier, nudging him gently. 

“Blue, what-”

She pushed a little harder, and he found his mental self doing a strange one-eighty: not a turn, per se, but a strange sort of mental swivel, a realignment, so that he lost his hold on Blue and the ocean place and suddenly couldn’t even feel her moving him anymore. Instead he found himself face to face with a strange heat, an open volcano swirling with warmth and energy and….and jubilation, a fierce and satisfied relief that almost knocked him to his knees. Almost unconsciously, he tried to shut himself away, to protect himself from the fire, but the presence pushed after him, like a cat rubbing its head up into his hands, and he suddenly had a flash of memory, a burning sensation, points of fire screaming agony into his skin, sinking deeper into the burning with no possible means of escape. He shoved away, as hard as he could. He visualized a wall of ice, an ocean of relief, a galaxy of space between him and the fiery presence trying to reach in. Mercifully, the burning stopped. He took a long breath, and let it all out, shaking. He felt as though he’d just run a marathon, unsettled in a way he’d never been before when connecting with his lion. Why had Blue shut herself away? Why was she turning him towards that other presence, why were they so happy, who was that-

But even as Lance thought it, he knew it was a lie. He knew exactly who that had been, knew its thoughts from nearly a year of forming Voltron, knew intimately how joyful it was when it was one with Keith, when it was speeding by him, spilling fire out onto enemies, protecting the others, forming Voltron’s right hand. As much as he wanted to deny it, he would have known the Red Lion anywhere- which left him with far more questions than answers. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pidge had always been an insomniac. Even at the Garrison, they’d spent a lot of time sneaking out of bed- even if it was for a different reason than Lance had thought. Since the paladins had found their lions and begun living in the Castle, none of them had become particularly sound sleepers. Being pulled out of bed at all hours to fight Zarkon or investigate potential new sources of information didn’t exactly make for the best sleeping schedule. Keith and Hunk survived mostly on catnaps, and Lance was fairly sure that Shiro just never slept, based on how much he seemed to get done- but of all of them, it was usually Pidge who had trouble sleeping at the assigned times.

So Lance wasn’t exactly surprised to find Pidge in the kitchen, typing furiously into their laptop while Hunk stirred at a bowl of what looked like purple playdough. As the doors slid open, he could hear Pidge’s voice.

“- seriously going to have to watch them go through this all over again, I can’t…” Pidge looked up from their screen, and seemed to change tacks mid-sentence. “Can’t figure out this coding, Hunk, it’s so irritating.”

Hunk looked up, brows knitted in confusion. “What?” He caught sight of Lance and his mouth opened in a soundless ‘ah’. “Hey! You’re still up!”

Lance’s stomach sank. He had the distinct feeling that they’d been talking about him. He pasted a smile across his face, though, and sauntered into the kitchen, trying to pretend he hadn’t understood anything. 

“Hey, guys,” he greeted them, as he flopped down into a chair. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Not a guy,” said Pidge, going back to their typing, as Hunk nodded in sympathy.

Lance waved a hand in acknowledgement. “Whatcha making?” he asked, as Hunk added another mysterious ingredient to the bowl in his hands.

“It’s gonna be something like garlic knots. I think.”

“You think?” Lance sniffed the air doubtfully. “Doesn’t smell anything like garlic to me.”

“I had to improvise a few ingredients. I only just figured out how to make baked things crunch right, so now I’m working on making it taste…. Y’know, garlicky.” Hunk pulled a tray out of the space oven and offered it to Lance. “This is my first try. It was…. well, interesting.”

The twists of dough on the tray looked almost nothing like garlic knots. They had grown into odd shapes, and were covered in small growths of dark blue flowers. Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Weird, right?” said Pidge.

Hunk dropped the tray on the counter with a regretful clang. “I think my translator must’ve done something wonky the last time I was out buying ingredients. I would’ve sworn that tentacly guy was selling me flour, he seemed to understand the concept of it reacting to heat just fine!”

“It must be some sort of plant that reproduces based on seasonal cycles,” said Pidge, eyeing the plant with a professional interest. “Don’t throw that out, ok? I bet we could do some cool stuff with samples of those seeds.”

“What do you take me for?” said Hunk. “I would never throw out your science plants. I already saved you some of the seeds, too.”  
Pidge hopped down off the counter where they’d been sitting. “Where did you say you got these again?”

Hunk frowned. “What was the name of that planet… Lance, what was it, y’know, the one with the carnivorous monkeys, and that cool street market where….” He trailed off, and started stirring his batter furiously.

Lance’s heart sank. For a moment there, he’d forgotten that he couldn’t remember. Everything had felt so normal- Pidge and Hunk talking science, weird culinary experiments, and Lance happily in the middle of everything, waiting to taste-test Hunk’s newest creation. But everything wasn’t normal, was it? Pidge was hiding something from him. And Hunk was in on it, if his face when Lance had walked in was anything to go by.

Pidge glanced at Hunk, and then at Lance, and shrugged. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. Cool find, Hunk.”

Pidge went back to their typing, while Lance began to spin his chair aimlessly. Hunk began rolling out his dough, casting furtive, worried glances at Lance. 

“Everything ok with you, dude?”

Lance forced a laugh. “Of course, bro, a little amnesia is like, definitely not weird or whatever, right? I’m aaaaall good.” He spun his chair a little harder.

Hunk frowned. “You know you can talk to us about whatever, right? We’re right here for you. If you need to talk, you can tell us anything.” 

Lance thought that was a bit rich, when less than five minutes earlier they had obviously held something back from him. He was supposed to trust them when they didn’t even trust him? His chest constricted a little. 

“It’s fine. I’m really fine. Just still a little beat up.” 

Hunk eyed him worriedly, but turned back to his garlic knots. The three of them kept up light conversation while he finished his baking, tossing banter back and forth around the kitchen like snowballs, laughing like everything was normal. The room slowly filled with the smell of baking, and Lance felt his stomach twist, knowing that Hunk had deliberately made his favourite food. Why? To cover up whatever he was trying to hide? He glanced at Hunk, who was bent double at a sarcastic comment from Pidge, his huge laugh crinkling his honest face. God, Lance was an awful person. Hunk was only trying to help, only trying to cheer him up, and Lance was doubting his motivations and treating him all suspiciously. What kind of a friend was he? His friends were just trying to help him.

They were already trying so hard. He couldn’t burden them with all his stupid problems. He started spinning his chair again, just as Hunk pulled his creation out of the oven.

The final product tasted almost exactly like garlic knots, but they sat like concrete in Lance’s stomach.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Lance left the kitchen feeling even more unsettled than before. He’d been hoping that Pidge and Hunk would give him the reassurance he needed, that they’d tell him everything was fine, not to worry, they had his back. It kind of seemed like everything was not fine, actually. Like they’d been keeping something from him. 

But why? What could have happened in the last seven months to make Hunk not trust him anymore- Hunk, of all people? What had he done?

Immediately Lance’s mind projected in every possible direction, thinking of all the ways that he could have alienated his team. His brain started constructing elaborate scenarios where an imaginary, strange Lance fucked up at diplomatic meetings, missed shots, said cruel things to his teammates. Maybe the Lance that they knew right now had done something totally unforgivable. Maybe he’d completely failed the mission, he’d let them down. That had to be it. There was something that he was missing.  
The most maddening part was the not knowing. How was he supposed to know where he stood when he didn’t know what he’d done?  
He took a deep breath, and abruptly switched directions, walking away from his room, going back the way he had come before hanging a sharp left.  
Lance only knew one person on the team who was totally incapable of keeping secrets. Keith was a terrible liar. If anyone was going to give away what had changed, what he was missing, it would be him. Besides, he had a totally valid reason to talk to him, the question he had been going to bring up with Hunk. 

He was just going to ask him about Red. That was all- he wouldn’t mention Hunk and Pidge’s weird behaviour, wouldn’t ask what they were keeping from him. He’d just ask about the lions and go from there. It was totally justified. Keith’s lion was messing around in Lance’s head, and it was totally normal to go and freak out at your teammates in the middle of the night, right? Right.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The knocking echoed down the hallway as Lance hammered on the door. The castle was on its night setting, but the dim blue lights weren’t making Lance feel any more relaxed. If anything, they were having the opposite effect, making the castle feel strange and empty.

Keith wasn’t answering his door. It figured. He’d actually never been into Keith’s room- well, that he remembered, anyway, but he was pretty sure this was the right one. He hoped Keith wasn’t about to emerge from a door across the hallway. That would just be embarrassing, honestly, and just the cherry on top of this shit sundae of a day.

Lance sighed, and leaned his forehead against the door. He considered just turning around and going back to bed. 

This was so stupid. Keith wouldn’t want to help him. Keith didn’t even like him. The thought made his throat feel tight. Of all the reasons he would have wanted to be coming to Keith’s room late in the artificial night, desperately needing his help with a Voltron-related problem was not high on the list. Keith already thought that Lance was a bad pilot- and now he was going to think Lance couldn’t even deal with his own lion. It was the second-most humiliating conversation that Lance could imagine being forced to have with him. 

Suddenly, there was a whirr, and the door slid away, interrupting Lance’s thoughts. He lost his balance, and stumbled forward, arms flailing. Keith caught him by shoulders, and pushed him back upright. He looked tired, with red eyes and mussed hair, as though he’d been sleeping badly.They stared at each other for a second, and then, unexpectedly, Keith cracked a tiny, amused smile.

“Nice of you to drop in,” he said, and Lance short-circuited. Keith- had Keith just made a joke? Really? Maybe Lance was hallucinating. This was definitely not the reception he’d been expecting.

“Um…” he said. The little smile was lingering around the corners of Keith’s mouth, and combined with the hands still warm on his shoulders, it was incredibly distracting. He wasn’t any less confused when Keith moved aside casually, and walked back into his room, as though he expected Lance to stroll in after him. As though Lance just casually dropped by Keith’s room all the time, as if they were buds. And it occurred to Lance, suddenly, that maybe…. maybe they were?

Were they friends now?

At this thought, Lance couldn’t prevent a tiny spark of hope from kindling in his chest. Maybe things with Keith had really improved. Could it be possible? He wished he could remember. He wished he knew where they stood, how often he did this. Keith was settling onto the floor, extending a leg in front of him in a casual stretch, as though resuming what he’d been doing before Lance came in.

“So what’s up?”

Lance couldn’t see his face, but the little smile was lurking somewhere in Keith’s voice. Abruptly, Lance remembered the reason he had come in the first place, and realized that he was staring at him like an idiot. 

“Um- something’s up. With our lions.”

Keith frowned, and paused in his stretching. “That’s weird.” He seemed to be thinking, and then said, “No… my lion is fine. Nothing seems to be wrong.”

“Well, something is definitely up. She’s lurking around in my head and getting in the way of my connection, trying to get my attention and stuff. This has never happened with any of the lions before! What did you make her do??”

“That doesn’t make any sense, why would my- oh. You mean Red.”

“Yes of course I mean Red. Hello? Your lion? Giant space robot you’ve been flying since we got here? Ring a bell?” Keith looked like he was on the point of saying something, but Lance plowed on. “She’s got in my head somehow and now Blue won’t talk to me, I think Red must have done something to her and I just...” Lance blew out a breath, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. His temples were starting to ache. “Can you get her to stop?”

“Lance….” Keith had an unreadable look on his face. He spoke reluctantly, like every word was causing him physical pain, like he would rather be doing anything else right now, anything that wasn’t having this conversation with Lance. Well, that made two of them. “Lance, I forgot that you wouldn’t know this. One of us probably should have told you earlier. I guess it just didn’t even occur to me, we’ve all gotten so used to it.” He took a deep breath. “You’re not the blue paladin anymore.”  
Lance felt like he’d just been sucker-punched by a Galran sentry. 

“What?”

“I said you’re-”

“No, I heard what you said, I just… what?” As the words sank in, Lance realized that they made a horrible kind of sense. Of course- if they’d found a replacement for Shiro, and then gotten Shiro back, it made total sense that Lance wasn’t a paladin anymore. He was definitely the one who gave the least to the team, who didn’t have any real special skills or worth. No wonder Keith hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Although, he realized with a sinking feeling, he’d said they were all really used to it now. Whoever it was was probably way better than he’d ever been.

The tiny flame in his chest flickered out.

“So….. if I’m not the blue paladin anymore… who is?”

Keith wasn’t stretching anymore. He was crosslegged on the floor, watching Lance carefully.

“Allura.”

Lance bit his lip, fighting to keep his voice casual. “Oh yeah? Bet she’s super good with Blue, right? I bet they just hit it off right away, Allura’s probably an amazing paladin.” He felt hollow, like all his insides had been scraped out dumped on the ground. On the bright side, though, his voice sounded more or less normal. Small victories, right?

Keith shrugged. “She’s okay. She had a pretty tough time learning, same as us. She picked it up fast though.”

Lance shoved his hands into his pockets, and looked up around the bare metal walls of the room, trying to find something to look at that wasn’t Keith, trying to shove down the lump in his throat. “Cool. Cool-i-o, yeah, that’s just. Yeah, that’s awesome.”

Keith got up in one fluid motion, and crossed the short distance to him. “Hey,” he said, touching his shoulder gently, “I know this is really sudden, and a lot at once. It was hard for you when it happened, too. I know how much you cared about Blue.”

Lance jerked back from his touch. “Do you? Not enough to let me keep her, I guess.”

Keith looked as shocked as though Lance had just punched him. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you obviously didn’t think our bond was strong enough, I guess, if Allura could take over so easily and get to keep her, I mean, which, like, makes sense? Since, yeah, Blue and I are happy, were happy, I mean-” Lance turned away from Keith stumbling over his words.

“I know this is a lot to process, but you’re going to have to deal with it, ok? You’ve done it before, you can do it again.”

“Deal with it? Deal with being so useless I have to have my lion taken away?”

“Lance, do you think I don’t know how you feel? It hurts, okay! It hurts, but you have to adjust!”

“You think you know how I feel?” Lance fumed. “How I feel, when you’re the star samurai, top of the class at the Garrison, Shiro’s favorite? When have you ever known a single thing about how I feel?”

Keith looked stricken. Lance knew that he was shouting, that he was being unfair, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“You have no idea! Don’t pretend you know what I’m feeling right now, you’re not the one who’s been kicked off the team! And I get it, okay, I really do, it makes sense, okay? I’m fine with it. Just don’t fucking pretend that you know what it feels like to be the weakest link.”

“Kicked off the team?” Keith grabbed Lance’s arm, turning him around. 

“Replaced, whatever. I don’t care what you-”

“What do you mean, kicked off the team?” Lance couldn’t look at his face, if he looked at his face he would probably start crying and just no, so much no.

“I mean kicked off the team, I mean being replaced. It’s fine. I’ll be fine, I get it, I just… I’m gonna just, um, go.” Lance tried to shoot finger guns at Keith, but it was hard when Keith had a grip on his forearm like a Balmera on a crystal.

“You’re not…. Oh my god, Lance, you’re not off the team, you’re still a paladin. Red is trying to get into your head because you’re the red paladin, you idiot.”

“I…. I’m what?” Lance froze, staring at him.

“Why would you think that?” Keith’s expression had softened a little, and he was frowning at Lance, looking at him searchingly.

“I mean…. Allura has Blue, so if we have Shiro back, that’s one too many paladins, right?” Lance held six fingers out to Keith, his arm still trapped in the other’s grip. 

Keith let go of Lance’s arm to rub a hand down the side of his own face. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again,” he muttered under his breath. To Lance he said, “You’re the red paladin. Allura has Blue, and I pilot the Black Lion.” A frown crossed his face, and was gone as quickly as it had come. “Shiro’s been running mission support from the castle.”

“Oh.” said Lance, feeling stupid. “I…. I have Red?”

“Yeah,” said Keith, letting his arms fall to his side. “So i mean it when I say I know how you feel. Seriously.” He sighed. “You were just starting to get really good with her, too, before...you know. She’s probably worried sick that you haven’t tried to talk to her. 

Lance could still feel Red nudging at him. It felt like he was standing with his back to a bonfire, slightly too close, the heat of it radiating against him uncomfortably. He mentally took a few steps away, trying to reduce the heat. “I dunno. I think I’m gonna take it slow,” he said. 

Keith shrugged. “Do what works, I guess. As long as we can still form Voltron.” 

Lance was still reeling from the revelation that he was the Red Paladin now, and not the blue one, and giddy with relief that he was still part of the team, still part of Voltron, still needed. “You got it, buddy.”

For some reason, Keith frowned a little at this. It was kind of adorable, Lance thought, before mentally smacking himself. “Since when do you call me ‘buddy’?”

Lance deflated. “Are we not...buddies?”

“I mean…” Keith made a little movement, jerking his arm up before lowering it back down again. “No?" He made a strange face that Lance couldn't interpret. 

“Oh.” Lance pulled himself together. “Um. Cool. Thanks for, uh, clearing everything up with Red and whatnot. I…. I’m really tired, I think I’m gonna do what Shiro said and get some sleep.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Keith’s face was closed off again, but Lance wasn’t surprised anymore. Not really. He’d probably imagined all the softness in Keith’s look before, the worry. It was wishful thinking. They weren’t, after all, buddies.

But if Lance lay in bed that night, thinking about the way that Keith’s smile had crinkled after he’d made that joke, well. That was fine, right? It’s not like those were the kind of thoughts you were supposed to have about your buddies anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. My brain knows that the chapters should be longer but somehow i just can't make them happen that way? idk. also the klangst got really real really fast. Whoops. 
> 
> Also, thank you all for your comments and kudos, holy shit. It's really exciting for me to hear everyone's reactions! I had a really wild week settling in to my new job and getting my Arya cosplay ready for Hal-con this weekend so this chapter took a bit longer to put up than i would have liked. Still, I think i know where the rest of the fic is going now, which is.... something? Yay?
> 
>    
> "Keith making a strange face is more on brand. Keith is not an English major, you are. He doesn't know what an ellipsis is." -olivia, editing this fic
> 
> “Nothing is happening. Live your life. Maybe talk to Keith, hes like a pretty chill dude” -olivia as hunk  
> *making ridiculous faces and sex finger gestures* -olivia as pidge
> 
>  
> 
> The title of the fic is taken from Dodie Clark's song "Freckles and Constellations", and the chapter titles are by Nikita Gill


	3. carbon in our souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How did you even manage to fix a ten-thousand-year-old magically enhanced healing pod with a secondhand 2008 netbook?” he asked.
> 
> “Face it, I’m just a master hacker with brilliant analytical and problem-solving skills.”
> 
> “Or you’re a tiny wizard.”
> 
> Pidge shrugged. “Same thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a castle full of insomniacs. It's fine, it's not like they have any machinery they have to operate or anything, right?

Lance woke up early the next morning, for some ungodly reason- or maybe the rest of the castle had slept in. Honestly, it was hard to tell sometimes, the way the Castle’s time settings worked. Either way, when he went to the kitchen it was clear that no one else had been there. 

Briefly, he considered going to the training deck, but he knew that Keith was usually there in the mornings, and didn’t like to be disturbed- and after last night, Keith was the last person he wanted to see. So training was out.

The next place his mind automatically went to was Blue’s hangar- but no, that was impossible. He supposed he could go to Red’s hangar… Lance was hyperaware of the presence in the back of his mind, like hot breath on the back of his neck. He shivered. No, not Red’s hangar. 

For some reason his feet carried him to the healing bay. He expected it to be empty, so when the doors slid open, he was surprised to find someone already there.  
Pidge was sitting crosslegged in the middle of the room, laptop perched on their knees. A tangle of wires radiated from them like veins, hooked up to the healing pods by chunky, improvised dials. More cables were attached to small humming boxes that Lance couldn’t identify, and some disappeared into open panels in the floor. 

Lance picked his way carefully across the room, sitting in a clear patch near Pidge. Their glasses reflected the glowing numbers scrolling across the screen, giving them a mysterious, focused look.

Reaching forward, Lance pulled the glasses off their face.

“Hey!” Pidge scrambled for the glasses, snatching at Lance’s retreating arm. Their laptop swayed dangerously, nearly crashing to the floor. They caught it and glared at Lance. “Not cool.” 

Lance raised an eyebrow, looking them over. Their face looked greyish, and they had deep purple circles under their eyes. “Did you even sleep last night?” 

Pidge looked away. “For a bit.” they muttered. “Enough.”

“Yeah, clearly not,” said Lance. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Pidge shrugged. “I’ve just about got the healing pods up and running again. That’s more important anyway.”

Lance smacked their arm with their own glasses. “More important than you taking care of yourself? Uh, no! What’s even the point of having healing pods if you’re not practicing good! Self! Care!” He punctuated each of these last words by poking a different part of their body with the folded glasses.

“Oh my god you’re going to break my fucking glasses, what the fuck-” Pidge grabbed at his hands, but Lance dodged, snickering, and poked them harder. 

“Ooh, careful, Pidge, you don’t wanna get in trouble for swearing again!”

“I’ll swear as much as I like, you-”

Suddenly Allura’s voice crackled over the comms. “Paladins, everyone to the bridge, please.”

Lance paused, and Pidge snatched their glasses back, jamming them triumphantly on their face. “Ha!”

“Okay, you win this time, I guess.” Lance stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “You coming?” At the back of his mind, he felt a faint burning sensation. Red was reaching for him again, trying to connect his mind, trying to tell him something. He flinched away from the heat, and concentrated on pushing her away. His temples ached with the effort. Every time, it got harder to hold her back, and this was the third time this morning.

“Yeah, just a sec.” Pidge tapped a couple of buttons on their laptop, and the slid it onto the floor, careful not to unseat any of the wires running into it. “Okay, should be good to run until I get back. Let’s go.” They took a few steps towards the doors before they noticed that Lance wasn’t moving. “Lance?”

Lance shook his head, trying to clear the rumbling that shook his thoughts. “I’m fine,” he said brightly. “Let’s go.”

The two paladins set a brisk pace through the hallways. It was sort of comforting, Lance thought, that this one thing, at least, hadn’t changed; Allura was still calling them to the bridge at all hours. Lance glanced sideways at Pidge; they still looked rough around the edges, and trotted to keep up with his long strides. Lance slowed his pace a little, and tried to think of a safe topic of conversation, ignoring his aching temples.

“How did you even manage to fix a ten-thousand-year-old magically enhanced healing pod with a secondhand 2008 netbook?” he asked.

“Face it, I’m just a master hacker with brilliant analytical and problem-solving skills.”

“Or you’re a tiny wizard.”

Pidge shrugged. “Same thing.”

The doors to the bridge slid open in front of them, revealing the rest of the team gathered around the holographic display. It was showing a planet that Lance didn’t recognize, slowly rotating in the middle of the room. 

“Ah, there you are!” Coran beckoned the two of them over. As they joined the loose circle around the holograph, Hunk wordlessly handed Pidge a steaming space thermos, which they accepted gratefully.

Lance’s eyes wandered around the circle of paladins. To his left, Allura stood with her hands clasped tightly behind her back, frowning at the display. On her other side stood Shiro, who, Lance noticed, was eyeing her with some concern. Pidge was slurping their space coffee at a record-setting pace, while Hunk and Keith looked unusually serious. Keith in particular was glaring at the holographic planet as though he wanted to set it on fire with his gaze. 

For a beat, there was nothing but the sound of Pidge’s coffee consumption. Then Shiro cleared his throat, glancing at Keith. “Coran, will you give us a recap of the last mission? Just to, uh, refresh everyone’s memory?”

“Certainly, Number One!” Coran typed rapidly into a holoscreen, and Altean words and diagrams appeared around the glowing planet. 

“This is the planet Tiubruib, which most of us here will remember quite clearly as the place where Lotor appears to be basing some of his operations. Unlike his father, Lotor seems to be dislike being based out of a single ship, or even a single location!”

Allura spoke up. “The theory that Shiro and I have been working on is that unlike his father, Lotor recognizes that Voltron can only be in one place at once. It would seem that he is willing to put trust in his generals in order to move his plans forward in multiple locations at once.”

“So far we’ve been able to gather the names of three different planets which may be potential strongholds, but only Tiubruib was in any of the castle’s databases. From the activity we’ve been able to gather, it seems that Lotor is about to put something important in motion; however, if we only know the location of one of the planets, it will be impossible to counter him on all fronts, even with the help of the planetary alliance!”

Allura took up the thread again. “This is why we sent the reconnaisance mission down to the planet’s surface in the first place. Lance, you and Keith went down in order to find the locations or at the very least the names of the other stronghold planets.” She exchanged a glance with Keith. “The idea was that his Galra blood could get you into the databases, and then Pidge would be able to remotely access as much information as we needed from a safe distance. Your role was only to cover him, in case things went wrong. It was supposed to be in and out as fast as possible.”

Lance looked away from Allura. Keith’s face was a mess of conflicting emotions. As Allura finished talking, he glanced up, and caught Lance staring at him. His expression turned flat and stony, suddenly devoid of all the vulnerability of a second before. Lance’s throat closed up. He looked away.

“So, then… what happened?”

Keith sighed. “It didn’t happen that way. It wasn’t in and out, it was a total disaster.”

“Yeah, I got that much, mullet. But what kind of disaster, you know, specifically?”

No one answered for a second; the team was looking at Keith, clearly waiting for him to answer. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Our information was completely wrong. No surprise there; it came from one of the new Alliance planets, from a source we didn’t bother to check out properly. We thought that Lotor was out at one of his other bases, so security was supposed to be pretty minimal. We got into the main control room with no problem. You didn’t see anyone, and you thought it was kinda suspicious, but I figured it just meant that the security really was minimal.” Keith sighed.

“I should have….but I didn’t, so. Yeah. Your instincts for that kind of thing are usually better than mine, but we kept going, we broke into the control room and I started overriding security.”

Lance stared at Keith in surprise. That was easily the longest speech he’d heard the other Paladin give, ever. What had happened in the last seven months to mature Keith up this way? And, for that matter, why was it Keith giving the logistics speech? Wasn’t that usually Shiro’s job? Probably because he was the only one who’d been there and still remembered, Lance supposed. Also- had Keith just….complimented him?

“Anyway, it must have been the override that did it. The whole room shut down. All the entrances locked down with blast-proof doors, and the alarms started going off everywhere. We couldn’t get out, and then….” Keith took a deep breath. Hunk laid a comforting hand on his arm, and Lance felt an irrational urge to hug him. The whole room was absolutely silent.

“So then we fought our way out, right?” Lance asked, breaking the quiet. “And I got hurt in the battle, and here we are?”

Keith shook his head. The others all wore some degree of concern or sympathy on their faces, all directed at him or at Keith. They knew, Lance realized. They all knew exactly what had happened- this retelling was all for his sake. His chest constricted.

“That was when Lotor showed up,” said Keith. Lance rubbed at his temples. His head was starting to ache again with the effort of keeping Red at arm’s length, and for some reason, the pain had spiked at this last statement. 

Keith continued to steadfastly not look at Lance.“He gave the order to gas the room with something, I don’t know what- and then we woke up in a cell.”

“Oh.” Lance considered this. “Okay, so…. then we broke out?” He knew he should be quiet, but he didn’t like the looks on everyone’s faces, the 

“Eventually.” said Keith. “And we didn’t really break out so much as the team broke us out. It was mostly just luck, in the end.”

“Eventually?” said Lance.

“It took us almost twenty-six quintents,” Allura said quietly. “And honestly, it was kind of a miracle that you came out at all.”

Lance did the math. “Three weeks?” he exclaimed. It came out squeakier than he would have liked. 

Allura nodded, and Lance’s head reeled. He’d spent three. Entire. Weeks? In a cell? With…. Keith? 

“So,” said Lance. “It was all worth it, right? We were able to get the intel before Lotor showed up, and this is all, what, backstory for that big reveal?” As soon as he said it, he saw the looks on the other paladins’ faces, and he knew that no, it hadn’t been worth it. Oh no. 

Pidge shook her head. “I’ve been combing through the data that I was able to upload before we lost the connection. There’s nothing.” 

“So it’s back to square one,” Lance said. Allura made a face, and glanced at Keith again, with a look Lance couldn’t read.

“Well, not…no. Not nothing,” said Allura. Keith crossed his arms, staring at the floor as she continued. “According to Keith, at one point you were able to find out the names of the other bases. We were hoping that when you woke up, you would be able to tell us.”

Lance gulped. “Me?”

Allura nodded, but her eyes strayed again to Keith. 

He glanced up, and sighed again. “You told me just before we escaped that you knew what we’d been looking for. You were, um, not super with it. At the time.”

“But...how?” 

Keith shifted uncomfortably. “You weren’t in the cell with me the whole time. They left me there, but they…. Took you. Sometimes.” He looked up, and locked gazes with Lance.

Lance felt the weight of his missing memories like a stone in his gut. Suddenly, he was glad that he couldn’t remember everything.

“I’m not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it was bad,” Keith continued. He was speaking only to Lance now, as though the rest of the team wasn’t there. It seemed as though every word was being yanked out of him like pulled teeth. “You were….yeah. When you came back you were always in rough shape.” He grimaced, and Lance got the sense that “rough shape” was probably an understatement. 

“We think that whatever you found out, it happened during one of these….absences,” Allura said. “So Lance, if there’s anything you remember. Anything at all.”

Lance stood there like a deer in headlights, his whole team waiting for him to speak. He racked his brain, and found absolutely nothing, no memories. Only Red pushing and pushing at the back of his mind, and his team in front of him, pushing too, waiting. He didn’t remember. He couldn’t. 

“Nothing.”

The team let out their collective breath, and Lance felt pressure rising in his throat. He’d let them down again. This was the one thing, the one stupid thing he had to do, and he’d wasted all their time. 

“Well,” said Allura, trying and failing to conceal her disappointment, “I suppose that’s all we can do for today, then. Maybe if we give it a few vargas, something will come back to you, Lance. Coran, will you stay a tic and help me with something?” She dismissed the rest of the team, who looked… to Keith?

Lance looked from them to Keith and then to Shiro. Keith and Shiro exchanged another one of those damn unreadable looks, and then Keith waved his hands in a “shoo” gesture. “We won’t do any group training today,” he said. “Go do your own thing. Just make sure you get some kind of physical training in.”

Lance headed for the door, frowning. Why on earth was Keith giving the paladins orders when Shiro was right there? Maybe it had something to do with him being the black Paladin now. He was tempted to stay and ask, but his headache was still building. He just wanted to get away, get back to his room, pretend he hadn’t just stopped the entire mission in its tracks.

As the others filed out, Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist, pulling him to a stop. The contact burned, and the pressure behind his eyes spiked again. Lance jerked his arm away reflexively, immediately regretting it when he saw the look on Keith’s face.

“What?” he said. It came out more defensive than he would have liked. 

Keith took a deep breath, shutting his eyes, and then looked Lance in the eyes. “I just wanted to say… Lance, if you don’t want to try to remember, that’s okay. I… it was bad, okay? Whatever happened to you in those cells.” He started fidgeting, and Lance fought down an urge to reach for him. “By the end of it, you looked….haunted, I guess. And this mission is important but it’s not as important as you are. So if you can’t remember, you don’t need to try.” Lance was shocked by the urgency in his tone. “It’s not worth you going through all of that again. It’s just. It’s not.”

Keith stared into his eyes, and Lance noticed all of a sudden that this close up, they had purple flecks in them. He glanced from one to the other, and realized all of a sudden how close Keith was standing to him. His face was no more than a hand’s breadth away. If Lance tilted his head just so…. 

Lance mentally smacked himself, and got his thoughts back on track. Remembering. Right. Yes.

“I’ve got to try,” he said. “For the mission.”

“You don’t,” said Keith, and his tone was almost pleading. “If you can’t remember, just let it go. Trust me. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“You think I’m not strong enough to handle it?” Lance said. 

“Of course not,” said Keith, frowning. “I know you can handle yourself. I just can’t handle seeing you like that again.” He turned red suddenly, and pulled back. “So just… be careful, ok?” He wheeled around and walked quickly away, joining Coran and Allura at the holograph table. Lance watched him walk away, absolutely baffled. He rubbed absently at his wrist, still feeling the warmth of Keith’s hands there.

He had to try to remember. He had to- even if it meant he remembered something horrible. He couldn’t let down his team by just giving up, he couldn’t put his own needs before the mission. And besides- he wanted to remember. He wanted to know what had happened, he hating missing pieces, missing context, missing whatever had made Keith look at him like that. And besides, there was one bright side, at least.

Whatever had happened to them in that cell, Keith definitely didn’t hate him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one didn't get proofread because Olivia is still at work like a real human. My shift got cancelled though so you lovely folks get another chapter!!!!!! Yay!
> 
> I was at Hal-con this weekend and I ran into a group of Voltron cosplayers and it made my heart so happy. I didn't get any of their names but if any of you are reading this THANK YOU for existing and for letting me take a selfie with you in my thrift-store Lance cosplay, lmao. I'm the sketchiest. Y'all had beautiful armour. 
> 
> ALSO thank you to everyone who left comments on this!! I appreciate your feedback so, so, so much. this is literally the most validation i've ever gotten in my entire writing career, I should've done this years ago, what the fuck
> 
> Follow my trashcan of a tumblr here. There's almost no original content and i never tag but you will laugh a lot and learn some things about feminism maybe? have fun


	4. nitrogen in our brains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has a revelation. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shortest chapter ever whoops

Lance was standing in the door to the Castle’s kitchen. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but it was definitely the Castle; the same long table, the tall chairs, the machines and the control panels and the goo dispenser behind their counter. The light was all wrong, though, a pulsing red instead of its usual cool blue-white, and his limbs felt strange and heavy. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” He turned. Pidge was sitting at the table, typing away at their laptop as usual. “How was your night?” They raised a brow, smiling wickedly. They didn’t seem to notice the strange red haze in the air.

Lance opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Pidge was at the counter now. How had they moved so quickly?

“Have some coffee,” they said. “Hunk has finally figured out how to make it taste right, isn’t that awesome?” They twitched, and the kitchen moved around him. “Isn’t that awesome?”

The kitchen dissolved. 

He was in space. In the distance, he could see Earth, and somehow he could see his family, waving to him from its surface. He could see everything, every detail, the desert, the Garrison, Varadero Beach. A lump rose in his throat, and he felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I’m coming,” he said, but the words stopped in his throat and suddenly he couldn’t breathe back in. He clawed at his throat, lungs burning. Red light bloomed in his vision, and he choked, and the Earth vanished.

He was being dragged down a corridor, purple, red, gray blurring and streaking around him. He couldn’t seem to focus, or to see properly. The hands on his arms were large and rough, twisting his shoulders in the wrong direction. Galra loomed above him, faceless soldiers, their eyes no more than dark slits in their helmets. One of the hands yanked at his shoulder, and a line of fire burned down his side. He tried to scream, but there was no sound.

Abruptly the sentries let go of him, tossing him to the hard ground. A door clanged, the sound echoing in a strange, metallic way. He lay still. It felt like he was bleeding- his face felt sticky, but he was so tired, so tired, and it seemed impossible to lift his face from the cool floor. 

Suddenly he felt hands on him again, and he twitched compulsively. If they’d come back there was nothing he could do about it, nothing, he’d been fighting for so long, but the hands weren’t rough this time, they were careful and light. They rolled him gently, and an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him up off the floor and into a pair of strong arms. He was propped up against something, a knee maybe, in someone’s lap. The hands smoothed back his hair from his face, unsticking it from dried blood. 

He opened his eyes. 

Keith’s face wavered down at him, soft and concerned, with worry creasing his eyes. Lance blinked and tried to reach for him, to warn him, they were coming! They were coming, and they’d take him too, they had to run. He shuddered, and felt Keith’s hands running soothingly down his back. 

“It’s going to be okay,” said Keith, “you’re okay, it’s just me, you’re back now, you’re okay.” Keith didn’t seem to see the red light either, he didn’t understand the danger, and it wasn’t okay, there was no way to warn them, there was no way out. Lance blinked and suddenly Keith was purple, he was Galra, and Lance jerked away, falling. 

“It’s just me,” said Galra-Keith, “you’re safe, Lance. Just stay with me and nothing will hurt you.” But his hair was long and white, his eyes were yellow and cruel, and it wasn’t Keith, it was Lotor looking down at him, smile blade-sharp and poisonous. Lotor reached down and pushed Lance’s hair out of his face. “Nothing will hurt you. See? It’s all in your head, Lance. Nothing here is a threat at all.” He stroked the side of Lance’s face, and leaned down, yellow eyes glowing in the dark, and Lance scrabbled away desperately, he tried to call his bayard, his lion, anything, but suddenly he was strapped down, and Lotor was across the room, facing away from him, facing something that Lance couldn’t see. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Lotor said. “There’s something poetic about this, I think. The natives of its home planet call it the yestiye. They kill it wherever they find it and they build shrines to keep it away from their homes.”

Suddenly Lotor was nearby again, smiling that sharp smile, and there were words coming out of his mouth but he couldn’t hear them anymore-

And suddenly Lance was standing. Sand was whipping at his face, filling his eyes and his mouth. He coughed. Why wasn’t he wearing his helmet? Where was he? The hot wind bombarded him from all sides, looking for cracks in his armour, burning his skin where it touched him. He stumbled through the desert, boots sliding in sand, falling to his knees only to scramble up again and push on. He raised a hand, trying to shield his eyes, trying to see.

“Nothing will hurt you, Lance.” Lotor’s voice echoed through his head, and he jerked, trying to see through the endless sand, the piercing wind. “Nothing will hurt any of the paladins, soon. Oh, no. You’ll all be very happy. Don’t worry. ”

The ground rumbled beneath him. Lance fell to his knees, and the ground swallowed him up, sand boiling up around his hands and legs until he was drowning in it.

He was in the common room on the Castle, legs tangling with someone else, laughing, and he turned his head and-

-he was running with Hunk down an unfamiliar street on a strange planet, and there were shots ringing all around them, but he couldn’t find his bayard, and there was some important reason why they were running but he couldn’t quite remember it-

-and he was clutching at the hand he was holding, until it was pulled out of his grip-

-and he was suspended in a field of stars, and the relief bubbled up in his chest, until he remembered- no, no, it wasn’t, it couldn’t, not again, no, and the stars started burning, and Lotor’s voice said wake up, but it wasn’t Lotor anymore, it was a different voice, a kinder, warmer voice, a voice he knew, but the stars were burning, burning, burning, and Lance gripped with his mind on to the warm red voice and let it pull him up and up and out of the dream-

And he sat up in bed, chest heaving, reaching into the dark frantically, convinced that he was back in the cell. He felt around with his hands, finding nothing, desperate for…. for…. 

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. As the dream receded back into his skull, he recognized his surroundings, and let his arms drop to his sides. 

He was in his own room in the Castle. The blankets were tangled around his legs, sweat-soaked. He shivered suddenly, skin chilled, but kicked the blankets away and started to pull on his clothes. 

He needed to go and find Coran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS IM SO FUCKING HYPE SEASON 4 IS COMING OUT TOMORROW AND IM A MESS. TAKE THIS AND LET ME DIE. BLESS ALL OF YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS THEY BRING ME JOY. YES I LIVE TO MAKE MY SON SUFFER APPARENTLY
> 
> PS this fic is now officially longer than my honours thesis. Who am i  
>  
> 
> Olivia's suggestion for a chapter summary: *waggling her tongue in an unnerving and vaguely suggestive way* "just take a video of this and put it on a loop"


	5. 93% Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team works with what little information they have to make a plan going forward. Lance drinks some terrible coffee and ponders the vast reaches of space. Keith is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovely friends! Thank you all SO MUCH for your comments and kudos! I am blown away by how many people are enjoying this <3 you guys rock.
> 
> I started this fic before season 4 came out so I guess I'm just going to continue working in a pre-season 4 universe. Is Shiro a clone? Is he not? Who tf knows, honestly, not me.
> 
> I'm already partway through chpt 6 so like... hopefully more good things will be coming soon? I'll be doing NaNoWriMo this year, so I may not be updating as much during November. Or, you know, I might start updating more frequently because I'll be using this to procrastinate. We'll see.

The castle corridors were just brightening to their daytime setting as Lance and Coran made their way to the control room. Coran strode ahead cheerily, while Lance followed with long, slow strides.

It had been a good call to go and find Coran. He’d been skeptical at first, but once Lance had explained what he needed, Coran was more than willing to help. He’d woken Allura, and called the other paladins to meet on the bridge.

Lance was happy to let him take charge. His head had been fine when he’d woken up, but as he’d talked to Coran, the pressure in his temples had increased gradually, and he’d started having trouble focusing his eyes. Normally, he would’ve been happy to be the centre of attention, but right now he really, really didn’t want to have to explain all of this again. 

“Coming, number three?”

He blinked, bringing the doors to the bridge into focus just as they slid open. Coran strode in without hesitating, but Lance paused on the threshold as heated voices drifted out.

“-need this intel, Keith!”

“Absolutely not!” Keith was facing Shiro, already dressed in his full paladin armour. Lance edged into the room, hoping neither of them would notice him.

“Keith, just because you can’t make a rational decision about this-”

“My decision is completely rational, Shiro! The risk is too high. I’m not sending anyone else down there.”

“So we go back to my original plan, and we try to recover-”

“No!” Keith snapped. Lance stared. He’d never, ever seen Keith blow up at Shiro like this. At the rest of them, sure, but he and Shiro had always been so close, like brothers- what had happened?

Shiro stared down at Keith. “Keith, you know what’s at stake here. The mission is more important than any one of us. You’ve known that since the beginning.”

Keith’s mouth pressed into a tight line, and he looked away from Shiro. 

“Keith, we have to do _something_ , even if you don’t like it. There’s no time.” 

Keith shook his head. His eyes bounced around the room before settling on Lance, and widening almost imperceptibly. As Lance watched, his gaze grew flinty, and settled back on Shiro. 

“I’m not risking anyone else. That’s my final decision on this, Shiro. We’re not doing it.”

Lance felt his stomach sink, all the hope he’d been holding in his chest deflating in seconds. Great. Not only was Keith angry at Shiro, it was probably his fault. Well, nothing for it now. He crossed the room to his chair, and folded himself into it. He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve as the rest of the paladins trickled one by one into the room. He thought he could feel Keith’s gaze on him, burning into the back of his neck, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t feel like arguing right now, and it seemed like Keith was already on the warpath. He looked up from his sleeve, and stared out at the abyss of space, trying to block out the murmur of voices behind him. Funny how they thought of this as morning. It didn’t look like morning at all, just more of the same endless night, the same dreams, the same fighting. 

The stars had always been comforting to Lance. He’d loved going down to the beach on calm nights, sitting in the sand while his older siblings pointed out the shapes in the sky and told him their stories. He’d watch the stars reflecting in the ocean and imagine that he was in space, watching them from the window of a spaceship. Sometimes his sister would let him swim, and he’d float in the dark, starlit waters, staring up and feeling that he was floating weightlessly in the stars themselves. Sometimes he thought that he’d come out of the water night-black and dripping with stars, a part of the galaxy, an alien creature unknown to himself.

Well, he’d been right about one thing, anyway. But the stars weren’t still anymore- now they blinked back at him sleepily, spinning past in unfamiliar shapes, shifting and changing and gone too fast to name. Space wasn’t still at all, it wasn’t calm. It wasn’t at all like he had thought it would be. 

He heard the distinctive sound of the bridge doors opening and closing. Two more sets of footsteps echoed around the room, but Lance stayed curled in his chair, staring out at the stars.

Suddenly a hand lowered from nowhere into his field of vision. Lance jumped in his chair and scrambled back, before he realized what it was holding- a smooth white cup of something steaming. He tilted his head back, and found Hunk looming over his chair, smiling upside-down at him.

“Morning!” said Hunk. “I made coffee for everyone since we’re up at such a weird time today. You look like you could use it.” 

Lance smiled and took the cup, feeling his tension wind down a few notches. “Thanks, buddy.” He lifted the cup and inspected it. It was the same pattern as the plates; very Altean, with glowing blue accents around the edges. “This isn’t really coffee, is it?”

“Oh, right,” said Hunk. “I forgot you wouldn’t remember. Nah, it’s something we picked up a while back, which has pretty much the same chemical effects. Pidge and Shiro pretty much live off it.”

Lance took an experimental sip. “It tastes….wow, not so bad, actually. How much sugar did you add to this?”

Hunk made a face. “Lots, in yours. It’s not so bad once you get used to it straight, although it still tastes nothing like real coffee. I think we only still call it that because you refused to stop referring to it as space coffee.”

Lance wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Instead he took another sip. It tasted almost entirely unlike coffee.

“Lance, Hunk!” Shiro was waving them over. Lance unfolded himself from his chair, and the two of them went to join the others around the star-chart, where Coran had pulled up a diagram of a mottled greenish planet. 

Allura began to explain. “As you all know, it has been hard for us to make any headway without the intelligence that Lance and Keith were intending to retrieve. While we are still no closer to knowing the exact location of Lotor’s base, Coran tells me that Lance has remembered some information that might give us our next clue.”

“You remembered something?” Shiro asked. Keith’s head snapped up and he stared at Lance, wide-eyed with something close to panic. 

“Nice!” Hunk hugged Lance around the shoulders, and he pulled his eyes away from Keith with some difficulty. He had a sudden flash of the way Keith had looked in his dream, the soft concern, _you’re back now, you’re okay_ , the way he had turned into Lotor… Lance shivered.

“Um…” Lance said, pulling away from Hunk and stepping back. “It’s not so much… I don’t know. It was just a dream, but I think… I think some of it might be memories? It was so specific.” He felt his cheeks growing warm. Pidge narrowed their eyes at him, and then looked back at Keith, opening their mouth.

“What Lance means to say is that he remembered the name of a specific organism that Lotor had on board his ship,” Coran interjected. “Since we know the planet it comes from, we can scout that location and see if Lotor has based any of his operations there.”

“And do we know the planet?” Pidge asked.

“Of course!” Coran said. “The creature that Lance asked me about is called a yestiye, which is a parasite native to the planet Lipkiy. It’s one of two planets in the Oshibka system, which we’ll be able to wormhole to in just a minute.”

“Lipkiy… that’s not a coalition planet, is it?” Keith was frowning up at the display.

“No, we’ve never been there,” said Pidge, joining him.

“We know that there is at least one intelligent species here, but our contact with them, even in Altea’s day, was very limited. However, we should be able to communicate with them, and even be able to gather information from them on Lotor’s movements.

Shiro was frowning. “And we got this intelligence from… a dream?”

Lance looked at the floor.

Allura shrugged. “It’s hard to know how Lance’s memories will return. For now, this is the best intelligence that we’ve got.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much information on this planet, though,” said Pidge, scrolling through the Altean text suspended next to the holograph. “And what little there is doesn’t look super promising. We could be heading into anything.”

“I don’t love the sound of that,” said Hunk.

Keith frowned. “It’s our only lead right now,” he said. “Even if it’s dangerous. This could be our clue to finding Lotor, or even to finding out how to help Lance.” There was a note of pleading in his voice as he glanced from Hunk to Pidge to Shiro. “It’s our only shot.”

Lance could see from Hunk’s face that this argument had convinced him- and he knew him well enough to know that he’d go for Lance’s sake, even if his gut told him otherwise. Next to him, Pidge stood up straighter. Lance watched them open their mouth, about to say something, and he made a split-second decision.

“I’ll go,” he said. 

The other paladins turned to face him, and he straightened his shoulders, trying to look confident. “This is all my fault. I should go. Can’t send you guys to a death trap planet for my sake, right? I can roll in with Blue, case the joint, maybe chat up some of the ladies...” he waggled his eyebrows, going for Maximum Lance Charm. 

He’d been going for a light tone, but it fell flat, and none of the others so much as cracked a smile. To his surprise, it was Allura who spoke first.

“Absolutely not.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “First of all, this situation isn’t your fault, Lance. You were injured on a mission, a mission that we were all a part of planning and executing. We share the responsibility to look out for one another. Your injury is not your fault.” Around him, the other paladins were nodding. Keith was staring at the ground.

“And even putting aside the question of responsibility,” continued Allura, “you’re injured, Lance. There’s no question of us sending you out on this mission when you are still recovering from the last one.”

Shiro stepped forward, and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “The rest of the team can go, Lance. With all four of them, there’s not much out there that can hurt them. You’re better off staying here.”

Lance pressed his lips together. He knew they were right, but the idea of sending everyone else out on a dangerous mission, for his sake, on a hunch he had from a dream, of all things…it didn’t sit right with him. 

“And,” piped up Coran, popping up to punch Lance in the shoulder, “while you’re recovering, you can help me with the repairs to the teludav! It’s perfect that you’ll be staying behind, I won’t be able to do it without a second set of hands!”

Lance rubbed his shoulder, feeling the pain of it radiate down his arm and into his chest. He swayed a little as his head throbbed again, and shook his head a fraction, hoping that no one else had noticed.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t fit yet to go out on a mission. But the rest of the team didn’t need to know that. He was fine. He could power through this, and no one would have to notice anything. 

He took a deep breath. Allura was saying something, and Keith was replying. The whole team was nodding, but Lance wasn’t paying attention anymore. This wasn’t his mission. His mission was remembering, and healing, and hoping. Not much of a mission, but all he could do, so he’d give it his best.

The team split up to head to their lions, and Lance looked up. His gaze caught on Keith, who was facing him, hesitating. For a tic, Keith’s face was filled with raw emotion- worry and anger and helplessness all mixing together with something Lance couldn’t name- and then he turned away, red-faced, and stepped up onto the Black Lion’s platform in the centre of the room.

Lance watched him sink out of sight, feeling the Red Lion prodding at the back of his skull, wanting him to remember, to understand, wanting something he couldn’t name. 

He pushed her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Olivia's birthday today! Happy birthday Olivia! Thank you for being the best roommate/beta a writer could ask for. This fic would literally not exist if I didn't have you in my house to keep me accountable for actually finishing it <3 thanks for being wonderful. I love you!
> 
>  
> 
> Olivia's dialogue suggestions:
> 
> Pidge: "this planet is literally called fear planet in the mistake system, why are we doing this"  
> everyone else: why do you speak russian  
> Pidge: we don't talk about my communist phase ok
> 
>  
> 
> also big props to anyone who can spot the Hitchhikers reference in here
> 
>  
> 
> hmu on my tumblr: ad-asterism.tumblr.com


	6. with souls made of flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for gore! It comes just after the first page break, so if that bothers you, scroll until you get to "Coran, what?"
> 
> Enjoy!

It was the waiting that was the worst thing. 

Lance had never been alone in the castle before when the others were out on a mission. Usually, if someone was hurt, they were back on their feet soon enough that it didn’t make a difference. They went out again and again, always as a team, always as a unit. Lance had only ever missed missions before when he’d been literally unconscious, when it didn’t make a difference what he did or didn’t know.

But being awake and moving, roving around the castle when the others were out on a mission? Not knowing where they were or whether they’d found what they were looking for? It was enough to drive him crazy. That is, if he wasn’t crazy already, between the Castle’s messing with his head and these weird dreams. Not to mention the headaches- and Lance was definitely not mentioning those to anyone anytime soon.

When the team had first gone out, Lance had stayed on the bridge, watching on-screen as Shiro ran mission control from Coran’s usual spot. The shift in perspective was strange- it was the same split screen of their faces that he would normally see from his lion, but… it was so big, filling the entire observatory wall of the bridge. Their faces loomed huge, looking like the heroes they were supposed to be, larger than life and far away, and wrong. 

To see Allura onscreen instead of standing here at the centre console was jarring. To see her in Blue… that just hurt. 

Needless to say, Lance hadn’t been much help. He wanted to be out there with the team, he wanted to be setting down planetside with them, watching Keith’s back. He had to keep biting his tongue to keep from yelling advice and directions through the comm link, and biting his nails to keep himself from reaching out for phantom controls in front of his bucket seat.

They hadn’t even landed on the planet’s surface before Corann dragged him away to “help with repairs”. 

Why had he thought it was a good idea to tell anyone about what he thought he’d seen? What if it had been just that- just a dream? What if there was nothing on this planet at all, nothing to help them. What if one of them got hurt? He didn’t think he’d be able to handle that. 

“Careful, Lance! Hold that lens steady now!”

Coran’s voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. He quickly moved the glossy blue lens back into position, as Coran calibrated the ones surrounding it.

Or what if he’d sent the others on a pointless and dangerous wild goose chase? It would almost be worse if they didn’t find anything at all, no danger, no people, even, if they came back empty-handed. Lance could picture the way they’d all look at him. It would just be more of how he’d been treated since he woke up- the kid gloves, handling him like he was made of glass. This would only make it worse, speed up the slow bleed of trust as it trickled away.

“Okay…. Excellent. You can let go.” 

Lance blanked out for a second, and then realized what he’d said, letting the scaultrite lens fall back into position. Coran gave him a funny look. “You doing all right there, Lance?” 

Lance let out a long breath. “Yeah, Coran, I’m just tired, I guess.” He tried a smile, which must have worked, since Coran smiled back. 

“Well, that’s no wonder. Why don’t you take a break? I’ve been keeping you on your feet for far too long!”

Lance stretched, and then winced as a stab of pain shot through his ribs.

“I think I’ll head back up-”

Suddenly the castle speakers crackled to life. “Coran!” Shiro’s voice was urgent. “Coran, head for the main level of the castle! We need you in the medical bay, as soon as possible!”

Lance felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. He didn’t wait to hear any more, but turned on his heel and sprinted out of the room, Coran hot on his heels.

______________________________________

The cryopod bay was still unrecognizable, its panels still exposed and covered in Pidge’s wires and piping. They had Hunk set up in the med-bay just behind the pods. 

Lance had never seen anything major done in there. The most he’d ever done was wander in to get a painkiller or the space equivalent of a Band-Aid. When he dashed in, though, the room was in full medbay mode. A large operating table seemed to have risen out of the floor, extending a variety of small robot implements and arms around Hunk’s limp form. They moved busily, cutting away clothing, splinting and straightening around his lower body. His legs- oh god. 

One of his legs was twisted at a strange angle, ripped open with a long, jagged wound. Lance could see his friend’s flesh: a pulpy, red mess, with white bones rising out like the figureheads of sunken ships. 

There was blood everywhere.

Lance felt a wave of nausea wash over him. _Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god_. He swayed, staring at Hunk, at the unnatural twist of his leg. He took a step, and another, and pitched forward, ready to run to Hunk, but an arm around his shoulders pulled him back. 

“Coran, what-”

Coran looked more serious than Lance had ever seen him. He hushed Lance quietly, and he suddenly registered the voices in the room, swimming through the air to him as through from a long way away. 

Allura was standing in front of the med table, in front of Hunk’s still form. She was having a shouting match with- of all people- Pidge.

“Just put him in the pod, Allura! Please!” 

Allura looked like she was on the point of exploding. “Absolutely not! Those pods are nowhere near safe!”

“They’re fine, I’ve double-checked all my math, I-”

“I will not put a member of my team into a broken pod, let alone one that has been tampered with by a human child! There are complexities to the technology that not a single one of you understands. ” Allura clasped her hands tightly in front of her, and took a deep breath. Pidge looked stricken. “Pidge, I appreciate that you want to help, but I cannot condone the use of the pods until they have been fully restored to operational use. By an Altean.” She emphasized the last word, glaring at Lance and Coran as though daring them to contradict her.

Pidge looked very small in the huge room. The cryopods loomed around them like an ancient henge, still and cold, the thick, lumpy wires trailing between them and twisting underneath their feet. They had their fists clenched, staring at Allura fiercely, very clearly holding back tears. 

Lance flickered back and forth between the two of them, not sure who was in the right, who needed his support, but Coran let go of him to stride carefully forward. He walked over to Allura and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get to work on the pods, Princess.” He squeezed it gently.

Allura took a deep, shuddering breath. She turned away from Pidge, removing her helmet, as Coran strode into the main pod bay.

“Pidge, why don’t you show me what you’ve been doing here?” He tugged Pidge over to their laptop. Taking a deep breath, they started to explain the improvised setup. 

Lance took a step towards Allura. She had a holo-panel pulled up, and was typing into it in Altean, face set with concentration.

“What happened?”

Allura looked up at him, starting. Her eyes widened. “Oh… Lance. Just a moment.” She flicked at the screen, and several thin strands of light shot out from the med-table, surrounding Hunk’s leg with a warm blue glow. Lance took a step closer, hovering over his friend, not knowing what to do. He watched the metal arms flash around Hunk, and felt his stomach twist.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Allura nodded, and he sagged with relief. “Hunk’s vitals have stabilized for now. He lost a lot of blood, but we have enough on hand that we can keep him stable until he’s fully functioning again.” She gestured to a thin tube that led from the med-table into his arm. “This method of healing is rather….crude, I must say, but it is our only option, without the healing pods.”

Lance felt a stab of guilt twist in his gut. It had been his information that had sent them on this mission, his pointless injury- and it was his fault that the pods were broken. He’d been the last one in them. He thought of Hunk’s optimism, his open acceptance, the coffee he’d brought him only that morning. Had it only been that morning? 

Lance took his hand. Hunk’s still face held none of his warmth, bravery, laughter. His dark skin was ashy pale. This was Lance’s fault. All of it. God, he was such an idiot. Why had he let them go without him? Why hadn’t he been there? He looked up at Allura.

“How long will it take, this way?”

Allura’s expression was hard and drawn. She let out a long breath. “There’s no way to tell, really. The quintessence booster will speed up the healing process and help to knit the bones back together, but it could be anything from a quintant to a whole cycle. It’s hard to say.”

A whole cycle. A whole cycle missing a paladin. They wouldn’t be able to form Voltron without Hunk, they wouldn’t be able to do….well, anything. Lance’s stomach churned. He looked back up at Allura.

“What happened?”

Allura seemed to be about to speak, and then changed her mind, shooting Lance an unreadable look. She shook her head, and sidestepped the question.

“I must go up to the bridge and consult with Shiro. Why don’t you stay here, with Hunk? In case he wakes up, that is.” Her eyes flicked away from him, to Coran and Pidge across the room, and then back. “Someone should be here.”

“Oh,” said Lance. “Yeah. Of course.” He straightened his shoulders, and tried a smile, feeling it crack unnaturally on his face, feeling his stomach twist again. Allura was acting weird. Why wasn’t she telling him what had happened? Was she trying to spare his feelings? What had he _done_?

“Thank you, Lance.” Allura reached out and squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. She turned to leave, and Lance let out a long breath. He gripped Hunk’s hand tighter, and pulled in a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I’m here.”

________________________________

 

Lance didn’t like waiting. 

It probably hadn’t been more than twenty minutes or so, but he was already feeling antsy. Pidge and Coran were working, the others were meeting, and he was just…. doing nothing. The restlessness had started in his chest, and worked its way down to his legs, until he started pacing the floor, carving a path from the med table to the pods and back.

Why hadn’t he been there? Why had he let them go alone, on a mission for his sake, with so little information, with no guarantee it was worth the risk? He should have been there, he should have been able to protect Hunk, to be at his side like he always was. Instead he’d been here, fretting uselessly while his own bad decisions hurt his friends. What if Hunk died? What if he was never the same again? What if Hunk got hurt for nothing, and it was his own fault?

He needed to know what was happening. He needed to hear the mission report. He needed to be doing something real, something important, something that could help Hunk. He wanted to be a useful member of the team, not dead weight, not the person who had forgotten everything important, who was protected and brushed off and given a non-essential task to keep them busy. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to help Hunk. He was useless.

Deep in his thoughts, Lance spun on his heel- only to feel a hand close gently around his upper arm. He turned. 

Keith was standing behind him, looking battered but unharmed, staring at him with wide eyes. He felt something unknot in his chest, a tight worry that he hadn’t even noticed until now. 

Keith was okay. 

Impulsively, he threw his arms around the other paladin. He stiffened, but raised a still-gloved hand, resting it lightly on his back. Lance felt the touch through his clothes, wishing that he could feel his warmth, that he wasn’t still in his armour, that-

Wait. What was he doing? Why had “hug Keith” been his first reaction? That was a _terrible_ first reaction! And Keith wasn’t even hugging him back, really, just standing there woodenly. It was doubly awkward because Keith was still in his paladin armour, cold and stiff and unyielding under Lance’s hands. The shape of him felt… it felt wrong. In his armour, Keith didn’t fit against him the way he should.

_The way he should?!?_

Lance let go and yanked himself away from the other paladin, feeling his face turn red. He thanked every higher power that he could think of for his dark complexion, hoping no one would notice his blush. 

Why did he know what Keith’s body should feel like? Why did he know that Keith was actually slender and powerful and compact, all firm lines instead of cool metal curves and bulky joints?

What the _fuck_?

“Soooo….” Lance began wildly, trying to marshal his quietly imploding brain. “Um… What happened? You guys filled Shiro in yet?”

To his surprise, Keith didn’t seem collected or calm either. He was staring at Lance like he’d just seen a ghost. No, that didn’t quite capture it- like he’d just seen a ghost, been handed a plastic toy sword, and been told that he had to kill it. When Lance spoke, he seemed to jolt back to reality, eyes shuttering back to his usual scowl.

“Your information was good.” Keith took a breath, and shut his eyes, looking conflicted.

Lance waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, he raised an eyebrow, turning back to Hunk. 

“Okay, whatever, don’t tell me.”

He was surprised by how much it hurt that Keith wasn’t opening up. He was, after all, the only person on the team who didn’t actually know what the hell was going on, if they’d already filled in Shiro. Did they not trust him? Sure, Keith had seemed….more open with him, lately. But it looked like he couldn’t count on that. It was probably just a fluke. Or trauma, or something.

“Lance…” 

The robot arms of the med-table danced efficiently around Hunk’s still form, setting and splinting the broken bones of his legs. Lance stared at their complex movements, ignoring Keith’s pleading tone.

“I’m just gonna stay with Hunk, okay?” He pulled his jacket higher over his shoulders.

Keith’s hand closed around his arm again, and he shrugged it off, stepping away. He heard a frustrated huff of breath behind him, and then the hand caught his arm again- but this time it wasn’t gentle. This time, Keith’s grip was steely and forceful, tugging him away from Hunk and back around to face him. Lance felt his chest churning, a supernova of anger and irritation and strange loss.

“What’s your problem, Keith?” 

Keith stared back at him, mouth set in a firm line, violet eyes worried but stubborn. When he spoke, his words were clipped and cautious in a way that Lance knew meant he was trying hard to stay calm. 

_Why did he know that about Keith?_

“Look, I just… I’ll explain, okay? But right now I need you to come with me up to the control room. We’ve filled Shiro in on what happened, and we need to get you…. up to speed.” Keith frowned. “But not here. We need you up on the bridge.”

“Oh.” Lance deflated, and frowned at him. There was something that didn’t quite ring true about what he was saying, something about the set of his mouth and the urgency in his tone. He looked back at Hunk. “I just… shouldn’t someone stay with him?”

“Pidge is here if he needs anything. He’s sedated, though. He’ll be okay.” Keith softened, and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Look at me.”

“What.” Lance bit out the word. Keith held his eyes.

“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

“I…” Lance frowned, bewildered, searching Keith’s face. This was… not the Keith he knew. His Keith would never try to comfort him, let alone know how.

He tried for a lighter tone. “Yeah, of course not, haha. Why would it be?”

Keith sighed, and turned away. “Never mind. Let’s just get you to the bridge.” 

Lance frowned. Keith had never exactly been easy to read, but this was a whole new level of confusing for him. He glanced back at Hunk, and then at Keith, questions forming on his lips, but the other paladin was already turning away, headed for the door. With a last worried look at Hunk, he followed him, trying to ignore the sense that something was seriously wrong.

 

________________________________________________

 

When the doors to the bridge slid open, Shiro and Allura were leaning close together, facing out towards the stars. Their quiet conversation cut off as Lance followed Keith into the room, and they turned to face the two paladins. 

Shiro looked more solemn than usual, his thick brows pulled down into a frown. Allura was wearing her this-is-a-terrible-situation-but-I-must-handle-it-with-grace-and-charm expression, the one that she usually reserved for seriously creepy diplomats. That scared Lance more than anything that had happened so far. 

He broke the silence. 

“So. What happened with the mission?” 

All three of them seemed reluctant to speak. Shiro looked at Allura, who looked at Keith, who rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. 

“I’ll be okay,” he said. “Just do it.”

Lance barely had time to wonder what he meant before Allura was moving. She grabbed his arms, and twisted him into a tight control hold, similar to how she’d taken him down when they first met. Shiro stepped forward, and Lance felt a set of cuffs materialize around his wrists. Shiro magnetized the cuffs, and they snapped together, pulling Lance down to the floor and holding him there.

“Uh-” said Lance. “What the fuck, guys?” He banished his first thought, which was “ooh, kinky” (because count on his brain to be wildly inappropriate no matter the situation), and wriggled his arms. Yep- those were definitely cuffs. 

“Sorry,” said Allura. “We just can’t take any chances.”

“Helpful,” said Lance. “So helpful. Clears everything right up.”

Keith walked into Lance’s line of sight, and sank into a crouch, facing him at eye level.

“It’s just a precaution,” he said. “We can’t be sure that telling you won’t trigger you to try to attack us or something, if it knows we know.”

“I don’t get it,” said Lance. “Why would I attack you? What’s “it”?”

Keith sighed, and sat down.

“Your dream was right,” he said. “Lotor had been there, on the planet. The locals remembered him visiting, and they told us that he took something with him when he left the planet.”

Shiro stood behind Keith, arms crossed over his chest. “It was a parasite native to the planet, called a yestiye. The same thing that you told us about from your vision,” he said. “Apparently it’s the stuff of nightmares on Lipkiy. The other intelligent species that live there kill anyone who gets infected with it, because there’s no cure.”

Lance froze. “It’s a… a parasite?” 

Keith nodded, looking grim. “It’s the most feared creature on the planet. The name translates to “eater” in their language.” He swallowed, meeting Lance’s eyes. “Once someone becomes infected…. it…. they…”

“It eats you,” Shiro said.

“Okay,” said Lance. “So, you think Lotor infected me with… this thing? That eats people? So hypothetically, wouldn’t I be, like…. eaten?”

Allura shook her head. “It doesn’t eat your body. It feeds off of your unique personality, your quintessence. And then once your quintessence is gone, it takes your body, and becomes you.” She shudders. “That’s how it spreads- once it has possession of a host, it can reproduce in others, taking over more and more people.”

Lance felt his stomach drop out. “No,” he breathed.

Shiro nodded. “Lotor must have given it to you, knowing that by the time you made it back to the ship, you’d be almost fully gone. Without your quintessence, you wouldn’t be able to pilot your lion. And then once you passed it on to the rest of us… ” He shrugged. “No more Voltron.”

Lance sagged. “No,” he said again. “No, I can’t be. I- I feel like me. I don’t feel like I’m an, an alien parasite.”

“Yes, Lance, but that’s exactly what a yestiye would say, if it was pretending to be you.” Allura looked even more grim now. “And you haven’t been to see your lion since you got back. Not once.” 

Lance looked up at them, and he realized what Shiro had just said. _They kill anyone who gets infected with it. There’s no cure._ They were going to- no- they wouldn’t, they were his team, they _wouldn’t_ -

He scrambled back, kicking out with his legs, tugging against the cuffs. His ribs bloomed with pain as he yanked himself away from the other paladins.

“Lance, no-” Keith was reaching for him, eyes desperate.

“Don’t touch me!” Lance yelled.

Shiro’s eyes hardened. “Keith,” he warned. He reached down and grabbed Lance by the arm, pulling him back to a sitting position. He tried to pull away, but Shiro was too strong. “We have to do it.”

“Shiro-” Keith started.

Shiro hauled Lance to his feet, and Lance winced at the jolt to his still-injured ribs. Keith flinched.

“I can take him down, Shiro,” he said. 

Shiro gave Keith a long look. “It’s better that I do it,” he said, and readjusted his hold on Lance’s arm. Keith’s face set into a determined look. 

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“Fine.”

Lance reeled. There was no way that Hunk or Pidge or Coran would agree to this. That must be why they’d lured him away from the med bay… Then again, he would never have thought that any of his team would consider something like this. Were they really about to kill him? No, there was no way. They were trying something else. They would never just… 

He caught a glimpse of Keith’s face as they made their way down through the ship. His expression was set in a mask of anger, the dim lights highlighting the dark shadows under his eyes. 

Lance would never have thought that Keith would agree to something like this...but maybe he didn’t know Keith at all.

Shiro’s grip didn’t ease up the further they went- if anything, his grip only got tighter, the Galra prosthetic hard and uncomfortable against Lance’s bruised body. The familiar halls of the Castle seemed different to Lance, somehow. They looked taller, more threatening, less like home, when he was being marched through them as a prisoner. The dim, bluish glow didn’t reach all the way up to the high ceiling, leaving deep shadows, and it lit up Keith and Shiro in an eerie, unfamiliar way. 

“Guys,” said Lance. “I’m fine. There’s nothing in me. It’s just me. You know that, right? Guys? Shiro?”

Shiro stared straight ahead.

“Keith?”

Keith looked away. “Just trust us, Lance. We have to do this.”

“Just trust _me_! You really don’t! There’s nothing _in_ me, it’s just me! I’m fine!” Lance felt the back of his throat closing up. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He felt his breathing turn erratic, and struggled against the urge to fight Shiro’s hold, to flee. He couldn’t take them both. He couldn’t even take Keith alone, honestly. Lance wasn’t a hand-to-hand fighter, he’d have to think of something else. He had to convince them that he was just himself.

They turned a corner, and all three of them stopped in front of the containment pods. Lance stopped in his tracks. 

“Wait, what?”

“We need to run a diagnostics scan,” Keith said. “To see if there’s any non-human material in your body. Then we’ll know if you’re infected or not.” He glanced sideways at Lance, as if trying to reassure him. “I know it’s not ideal, but none of the healing pods are working right now. This is all we have that can do the scan. I’m sorry.”

Lance let out a huge sigh of relief, sagging in Shiro’s grip. “Ohhhh my god. That’s...um, yeah. Not ideal.” But they weren’t taking him somewhere horrible to kill him. That would have been even less ideal. 

Keith frowned at him. “Why, where did you think we were going?”

Lance shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Keith frowned even harder, and Lance could see him mentally replaying their conversation. His eyes widened. “Lance, you didn’t think-”

“Okay, let’s get him in the pod, Keith.” Shiro was using his human hand to tap in a key sequence on the control pad, and one of the pods hissed open. 

Lance stared at the pod. Involuntarily, he thought of a field of stars, a burning sensation, unimaginable pain clawing at the edges of his brain. He shuddered, and took a step back. Shiro’s hand tightened painfully on his arm.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said.

“Please, Lance.” 

Lance pulled back again, yanking his arms, trying to free himself from the cuffs. He kicked at Shiro, to no avail.

“Keith,” Shiro said, “I’m gonna need your help here.” 

Keith sucked in a breath. He hesitated, then stepped forward, taking Lance’s other arm. Together they lifted Lance into the pod. Blue smoke drifted out around his feet.

“What?” said Lance. “No, come one, Keith, don’t-” He kicked feebly, trying to twist away, but the pod’s automatic restraints were already closing around his torso. He panicked.  
Shiro let go and stepped back, but Keith stayed, hovering a hand near Lance’s shoulder. Lance caught it with his own. 

“Keith, _please_.” Lance let all of his hurt, his fear, show in his eyes, willing Keith to understand. He couldn’t go in the pod, not again, not the burning, not- 

His breath choked off on a sob.

Keith squeezed his hand. His gaze flickered back and forth between Lance’s eyes, fast and guilty and worried. “It’s gonna be okay, Lance. It’s just for a little bit. You’re gonna be okay.” His voice cracked. He seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Lance. His hand slipped out of Lance’s as the glass slid down between them, sparking with energy. 

The pod hissed shut, and the cold started to spread.

 

_______________________________________

 

The containment pods were very different from what Lance was used to. 

In the healing pods, he’d always felt the cryo kick in slowly. Lance had read once about what it felt like to die of hypothermia- cold at first, and then a soft warmth, a feeling of sluggish sleep. The healing pods were like that: a spreading cold that soothed and numbed as it went, a feeling like sinking into sleep, knowing that he would wake up whole and stumble out into a circle of relieved faces.

This was nothing like that. 

The containment pods were designed with more than healing in mind. They could be used to extract memory, to upload a person into the castle’s AI, to hold prisoners. The castle had never had a prison wing- there was no need for cells when you could keep your captives in a state of stasis. Coran had always claimed it was much more humane than the Galra’s way- and almost never needed. 

When they’d held Sendak here, Lance had wondered if he’d been able to hear them. If he’d known he was being held captive, if he’d been trapped inside his own mind within the blue glow of the pod. 

Well, he had his answer now.

Rather than a slow, cold burn, this pod froze him in place as soon as it was closed. He felt his eyes closing involuntarily, felt his body relax into the pod’s restraints as it held him upright. He felt the rush of cold around him, felt the quiet rumble of the machinery against his back, heard the faint murmur of voices coming through the curved glass.

He wasn’t unconscious. 

He strained to hear what the voices were saying, tamping down his panic. He couldn’t make out any words, only the tone- raised voices, angry, upset. It sounded like Keith.

“-don’t understand, this is going to hurt him. What if he’s awake in there? What if-”

“He’s fine, Keith.” That was Shiro’s voice, calm and in control. “It’s just like the healing pods. We just have to do a scan to make sure there’s no virus in him. It’s for his own good.”

Lance tried to move, tried to tell them he was still awake, still here, still listening to them. He couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream- he was trapped in the cold, in the emptiness of space, he wasn’t fine, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even see-

His vision burst suddenly into a field of stars, a burning pain, and in his mind he struggled even harder-

He was being dragged down a hallway, his arm being wrenched out of his socket-

He couldn’t move, he was cold and numb and held in place and oh god oh god-

And suddenly there was a steady heat licking at the back of his mind, and he pulled himself away, pulled himself into warmth and fire and blissful heat-

He still couldn’t move. But through the fog of panic, he realized that he didn’t really mind so much after all. His body was just a bag of organs, slowed to a crawl, a tiny thing, weak and finite. Fear was a thing for meat-bodies, panic was a feeling for lungs and veins and accelerated heart rates. Lance was strangely detached from all of that, stronger than the frozen ice, faster than he’d ever been. He was outside his body, he was warmth and fire and power, a comet streaking across the night sky.

Oh, he thought, and a contented purr rumbled through him. Hello, Red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was way more dramatic and wow way more long than i thought it would be. My goodness. I need to go write something fluffy now byeeee
> 
> I'm also really bitter because I watched Stranger Things 2 last night and they stole my monster. Goddammit, Duffer brothers. 
> 
> Thanks all of you for your love and support! Reading your comments makes me so unbelievably happy <3 <3 <3 please come scream at me on my tumblr You guys rock.
> 
>  
> 
> Olivia: "Lol vore"


	7. all just stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sensations hit him with the force of a comet, slamming into his consciousness. It felt like he was experiencing everything: every feeling, every memory, every sensation and smell and sound, all at once, as though he was living it again. It was good that Lance had no body, because the flood of memories was disorienting: the shock would have been too much for his organic self. But in the not-place, melded with his lion, he only felt a sense of wholeness, of rightness, of fierce and fiery joy.
> 
> Lance remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone. I'm really sorry for the long wait- things have been weird with my mental health for the last month or two, and Nanowrimo kind of destroyed all my desire to ever write again. So this took way longer to write than i thought it would.
> 
> I originally wanted the flashback to be one single chapter, but tbh it's like an entire fic in itself, so I'm splitting it into two because it's turning into a monster and i felt like you guys deserved some sort of update. That's why there's an extra chapter in the count- it'll be the same amount of story, probably, but with one more chapter/ a bit more of an epilogue, maybe (who am i kidding, im totally writing this on the fly). I'm hoping to get the next chapter (and the rest of the flashback part) out more quickly next time, so watch for that. 
> 
> Anyway merry christmas/happy belated hannukah/happy holidays/auld lang syne/enjoy this update as a gift for you in this very festive season. i love you all so much and I value your comments more than I can say. thanks for sticking with me. <3 ILYSM BYEEEE

Lance was dimly aware of his body, frozen in the containment pod, but it was as thought he was looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope. It seemed very small, far away and unimportant, much less real than the warmth of Red all around him, her connection to him in the place that was not a place. The panic and fear that had consumed him in the pod was melting away. Instead, he was filled with a calm certainty, a mechanical poise, as Red poured her strength into him.

Hey, girl, he thought. Long time no see. 

She did the mental equivalent of cuffing him around the head. He could feel her irritation at being ignored- and, underneath that, her pleasure to have him back, her excitement. 

Thanks for getting me out of there. I owe you one, he thought.

An affectionate nudge, a rush of warm loyalty, laced with a question. She wanted to know why he’d been gone, what had happened, why he’d shut her out for so long.

Lance hesitated, and then opened his mind to her, more carefully than he’d done with Blue. He let her feel all his uncertainty, his fear, his anxieties, mentally bracing himself.

_What if she hates me for blocking her out? What if she wishes she had Keith back? What if she’s mad that I miss Blue so much? How can I live up to being the Red Paladin? What if she doesn’t want me now that I can’t remember her?_ He didn’t know how to explain it, so he just let her feel it, let her feel what he felt and understand, waiting for her to reject him, to send him back to the cold immobility of his body in the pod.

It never came. 

Instead, he felt a rush of understanding, a warm, fierce love that chased away all his questions. He felt a deep-seated sense of well-being, a confident power, like being at the controls and knowing exactly what she wanted him to do. It was familiar, somehow, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the loss of the time he’d spent bonding with her. He wished that he could remember all they’d done together.

Her responding rumble held a tint of eagerness. He didn’t know Red as well as he’d known Blue, and her feelings were more intense, slamming into him in quick succession,nearly bowling him over with its urgency. He picked his way through the feelings she was offering him, trying to sort them out: answers, protection, love, an offer. 

An offer? What?

He sent the question, and the feelings grew stronger, tugging at the edges of his consciousness, pulling threads of him away as though trying to explain. He caught glimpses of scenes, of feelings, in colours too vivid for his regular eyes. A red cockpit. A purple-lit hallway. Pain, a startled breath, space careening by.

Lance couldn’t make any sense of it.

Red opened their connection wider, and a wave of dizziness washed over him: sensation and emotion and memory, tinged blue at the edges. 

It was a feeling like walking into your own home after a long time away, and recognizing the smell of it, something you never noticed before but you’ve always known; a yes-of-course feeling, shocking and familiar and overwhelming. It was _him_ , Lance realized, the way that he felt to the lions. It was his own memories, pulled out of Red’s infinite databases where he’d shared them with her, where she’d felt them right along with him as they were happening. 

She’d had them all along.

The sensations hit him with the force of a comet, slamming into his consciousness. It felt like he was experiencing everything: every feeling, every memory, every sensation and smell and sound, all at once, as though he was living it again. It was good that Lance had no body, because the flood of memories was disorienting: the shock would have been too much for his organic self. But in the not-place, melded with his lion, he only felt a sense of wholeness, of rightness, of fierce and fiery joy.

Lance _remembered_. 

_________________________________

He was in the kitchen, licking batter from Hunk’s bowl, laughing and singing along to whatever stupid song he’d gotten stuck in their heads today.

He was in the common room, tucking a blanket around Pidge, feeling them fall asleep, feeling his shirt stick against his skin where it was wet with tears. He was wishing he was better with words, hoping he could help, surprised and pleased that Pidge trusted him enough to cry on him. 

He was standing awkwardly in Keith’s room holding up six fingers and trying not to let his throat close up. _Well, you’re the leader now, right?_ He was looking back over his shoulder when Keith called him, smiling through the doorway as he told him _leave the math to Pidge_ , because _god_ Keith was so awkward sometimes, he was so ridiculous and beautiful and hopeful, trying to look confident with his shoulders back, his soft hair in his eyes, his stupid v-neck- who the fuck even wears v-necks anymore? Was it legal for shirts to look that nice and that touchable on someone?- and Lance was hesitating and overthinking and then letting the door shut, dragging his hands down his face as he walked down the hallway and trying to shut down the inconvenient buoyant feeling in his chest.

He was in Red, slamming the joysticks forward, spinning gracefully between fighters in a spout of flame. He was shooting finger guns at Allura over the comms and feeling pleased when she rolled her eyes, bantering with Pidge and trading jabs with Keith, yelling encouragement to Hunk.

He was dozing on the floor with his forehead pressed to the cool glass of a healing pod. He was cleaning the teludav with Coran, letting his voice wash over him like comfort. He was talking seriously to Shiro, walking alone through the halls of the castle, waking up from nightmares in a cold sweat; all the lost days in the Castle, his everyday nonsense, the laughter he cajoled out of his team over and over and over. The memories rattled through him, faster and faster, and then slowed suddenly, until they weren’t memories anymore, weren’t the past. He was in the moment, he was living it, every breath, sensation, every thought as real as the second it happened- and as the memories spun by, he realized that Red was pushing some of them to the forefront, nudging them insistently against his consciousness. 

And all of a sudden, he realized what it was she was trying to tell him.

 

 

six months ago

 

He was tugging at the itchy collar of his formal paladin uniform and wishing they were allowed to wear Earth clothes. The paladins were crowded into one of the transit pods, headed to the surface of a newly freed planet. The four of them, Coran, and Allura were supposed to partake in yet another banquet- this time celebrating the freedom of the Zaglidon people, a tall, insectoid race with an unnerving amount of eyes. As usual, Coran was giving them a last-ditch rundown of their hosts’ customs. 

“-and, oh! It’s very important that you don’t look them in the eyes! It’s considered extremely intimate in their culture, and can be taken as a challenge, a declaration of war, or even a marriage proposal, depending on the context!”

Lance watched the planet’s surface rushing towards them, purple and orange foliage becoming more and more distinct. He was only half paying attention to what Coran was saying. After the first dozen or so planets, they all started to blend together. This one, at least, had an atmosphere that wasn’t toxic to humans, so they’d be able to go outside. That was something, at least. It looked like there was a forest of some kind near the city. Maybe they’d let them go see it.

Maybe there would even be rain.

Lance was snapped back into focus by Hunk elbowing him in the ribs. Coran was wrapping up, gesturing in a wide flapping motion.

“...and that’s why you should never eat any fruits displayed in a counterclockwise swirl. Dangerous place, Zaglid, but such humour! Real jokers.” He chuckled reminiscently. “Princess? Anything to add?”

Allura adjusted her sleeve. “Before we go planetside, I want to remind you all that as paladins, you must be on your best behaviour.” She clasped her hands behind her back, looking every inch the princess that she was. “In some of our latest meetings, you have presented a… less than ideal image, shall we say, to our allies. We must show them that Voltron is a united front. A _mature_ ally.” She glanced between all of them. They were all looking anywhere but her. Keith in particular was staring at the ground.

_Don’t call him out_. Lance tried to send the words telepathically into Allura’s brain, hoping with all his might. _Don’t do it, don’t do it, dont-_

“Keith,” she continued, and Lance winced. While it would be entertaining (not to mention hot) to see Keith and Allura beat each other up, this elevator ride was not the time or the place.

Keith stared even harder at the ground, like his gaze might burn a hole in the pod’s floor so he could jump out.

“At our last meeting,” Allura continued resolutely, “you were not only incredibly rude, but you also revealed our shortcomings and weaknesses to allies who desperately need us to be strong. Keith, you cannot allow your temper to get the better of you like that.” 

She waited a beat. 

“Keith-”

“Fine.”

Allura crossed her arms in front of her chest, and Lance was reminded forcefully of his mother at her most frightening. Hunk and Pidge both looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here.

Keith’s eyes flickered up and around the room, and finally settled on Allura. His hands twitched almost imperceptibly. 

“I’ll be careful, okay? I won’t yell at anyone this time.”

“Even if they bait you, Keith,” Allura pressed, “even if someone mentions Shiro. I know it’s hard but-”

“I know, all right? I-”

“-but this race is extremely easily offended, and we need the military support they can offer. No matter what anyone says to you, you must remain calm and gracious, and respect their customs. These negotiations are going to fail otherwise,” Allura pressed. “Many of these races still distrust Galra, and I fear you will not help our cause by-”

Keith huffed, tensing, but Hunk laid a placating hand on his arm. “We’ll be on our best behaviour,” he promised. “All of us.”

The pod touched down lightly on the planet’s surface, coming to rest on a raised platform near the centre of the capital city. Through the windows, they could see the enormous crowd of insectoids, limbs raised in what looked like it might be a cheer. Lance hoped.

Allura shot one last glance at Keith, and led the paladins out into the orange sunlight.  
It was funny how quickly you got used to hanging out with aliens, Lance reflected, as their hosts led them into the cavernous dining space and on to a high platform. The first few times, he’d been awed by the strange and wonderful planets, the technology, the sheer variety and oddness (not to mention hotness) of the aliens they met. Now, though, after dozens and dozens of these diplomatic ceremonies, all the planets were starting to blend together. 

Lance let the aliens’ voices wash over him as Allura started into a long speech. He let his eyes wander around the room, taking in the cluster of dishes arranged throughout the hall, the polished stalactites, the rows of multifaceted eyes turned towards the five paladins. This speech was pretty much the same as the ones she’d made everywhere else, so he was willing to bet he knew it almost by heart at this point.

“...your contributions to the coalition will be a great help in our fight against Zarkon! If we stand united, we can defeat the Empire and usher in a new age of peace and-”

Lance sneaked a glance sideways. Pidge was tapping surreptitiously on their wristscreen. He nudged them, and they turned red, tucking their arm behind their back. 

On Pidge’s other side, Keith was standing stiffly, face impassive and straight. Lance wondered if he was really going to obey Allura’s orders this time and hold in his temper. On the last planet, he’d almost gotten in a duel to the death with one of their local elders. It hadn’t exactly helped, but it had made Lance’s evening a lot more entertaining. Idly, he watched Keith chew on his lips. It was unfair how nice Keith’s lips were. Especially considering how little he took care of them. Ugh, that boy needed some chapstick.

Lance mentally shook himself. Not the time, Lance.

But if not now, when is the time? a small, too-reasonable part of him asked. We could die any day. If I don’t appreciate hot people now, I might never get the chance.

Lance was brought back to reality by Hunk’s elbow in his ribs, as Allura finally wrapped up her speech. The assembled Zaglidon began waving their forelimbs again in their version of applause, mandibles gnashing silently. Lance hoped that meant they’d be fed soon. Maybe he’d get seated next to a hot, single alien again. Although- he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Zaglidon beauty standards were. It probably wasn’t worth the effort.

On the floor below them, the Zaglidon started to settle between the dishes, arranging themselves in complex seating patterns on the floor of the hall. Two of the insectoid aliens approached the paladins, and started to show them where they were supposed to sit on the raised dais. They made deep, flowery bows, and pointed to an open space between three of the largest Zaglidon elders. 

Lance had just started to follow Hunk when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Hey!”

Keith was being held back by one of the Zaglid attendants. Its long, spindly forelimb was crossing his path, blocking him from joining the others. 

“I need to sit down!” Keith looked irritated, as he so often did at these formal dinners lately. “Let me by.”

“It is not fit that a Galra should dine with the zag-liit.” The alien’s voice was strange and thin. “Our honoured leaders will not dine with races that fight against us. It is not the way.” It pointed towards the back of the hall.

“I’m not fighting against you!” Keith tried to shove the limb aside, but it must have been stronger than it looked. 

“Galra are zig-aren. They will profane the zag-liit. The Galra will dine elsewhere.”

“I’m barely even Galra!”

“It is not the way.”

Lance spun on his heel and marched back towards Keith at the edge of the dais, hoping to defuse the situation- or at least avoid the inevitable fistfight. Keith looked about ready to snap. He had that look in his eye that Lance had seen too many times before when aliens were being particularly dense. Lance got ready to intervene- but then a strange thing happened.

Keith had looked ready to explode, but then he glanced over at where Allura was sitting, crosslegged next to one of the Zaglidon leaders. She hadn’t noticed them- she was laughing politely, picking at finger foods. He hesitated- and then his shoulders slumped. 

“Fine,” he said, face carefully blank. He glanced at Lance, and then away. “I’ll go sit, wherever, I guess. Away.”

Lance felt his throat burn all of a sudden with a strange, cold rage that he didn’t understand. Keith was giving in without a fight? To some…. Some racist asshole?

“Wait,” he said, grabbing Keith’s arm. “No, nonononono. Hang on.” He turned to the tall Zaglid. “Who are you again?”

“This one is Qu’emzag. Head arranger of feasts.”

“Lance, it’s fine-”

“Qu’emzag, thanks,” said Lance, letting the cold anger propel him forward. “Arranger whatever. What part of ‘black paladin’ did you fail to understand?” He let go of Keith, and stepped closer to the alien, punctuating each word with a poke to its bony carapace. “He is the decisive-” Poke. “Head-” Poke. “of Voltron!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you are just unbelievably prejudiced if you think he’s anything like the enemy we’re all fighting. How _dare_ you.”

“It is-”

“Yeah yeah, not the way. Heard that. But it’s also not the way of Voltron to split up our team. Or to publicly shame the people who just saved your entire fucking planet, my dude.” He stared it in the eyes, trying to seem more intimidating than the skinny teenager he was. “And honestly. Qu’emzag. I’m not saying that I like, disagree with your customs, or whatever. All I’m saying is, in Voltron, we have our own customs and stuff. And if you disrespect the Black Paladin…” he trailed off meaningfully and crossed his arms, shrugging. “Voltron might get, you know. Offended. And I’m sure your, your zag-liit don’t want that.”

The Zaglidon were hard to read, but Lance thought he saw real shock in the way it reared back a little bit. He stared it down. His hand was kind of hurting from poking it like that- it hadn’t given way like a human chest would, and the front plate of its exoskeleton was actually way harder than he’d expected. He shook out his hand surreptitiously, and kept glaring at the insectoid asshole.

Qu’emzag glanced towards the elders on the dais, and then out towards the room, and Lance realized that everyone on the dais had fallen silent, staring at them. Allura was wide-eyed, and Keith was redder than his lion, staring at Lance like he’d never seen him before.

To his surprise, the alien swept its arm out, making a complex gesture towards what was basically the high table. Several smaller aliens scurried to rearrange the patterns of dishes on the dais, making space for another diner.

Qu’emzag looked from him to Keith and then back, and bowed with grudging respect. “The Paladins are wise,” it said, in a strange tone filled with clicking. “As you say, there is no one race on our side of this war. Voltron must not be divided from its head, if it is to stay strong.” It looked sideways at Keith, and then addressed Lance again. “The zag-liit will not speak to the zig-aren, but he will be seated at the high place. He must not touch any of the dishes. We will bring him his own.”

Lance frowned, but Keith glared at him. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “Let it go.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, but then hesitated. His eyes darted anywhere but Lance, cheeks still pink, fidgeting nervously- and then he sighed and turned away to join the rest of the team at the feast, leaving Lance teetering at the edge of the dais, heart in his throat, not knowing why.

 

 

five months ago

 

He was in a red-tinted cockpit, dragging at still-unfamiliar controls, mind on fire. 

“Lance!” Pidge’s voice crackled through his comms. “Nine o’clock!”

Cursing, he wheeled the Red Lion around. The Black Lion was caught in a swarm of fighters, sent to pin Keith down and stop them from forming Voltron. Keith was still unused to the Black Lion’s controls, and kept spinning out of maneuvers that he’d been used to doing with Red.

“Guys,” he said, voice determined through the comms. “I’m, uh… the Black Lion can’t shake these fighters.”

Lance could tell that it cost him to even say that much, to even hint at asking for help, but it was a huge improvement over the way things had been at the beginning

“Don’t worry about it, Keith.” Lance spun Red, and started a tight corkscrew, blasting fighters all around the bigger lion. “The sharpshooter is on the job!”

He heard Keith snort, and he could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he replied. “I think I should maybe be more worried.”

“C’mon, admit it,” said Lance, “I fly Red way better than you ever could, Mullet.” He jerked the controls, aiming to pull out of the dive and stop neatly in front of Black, but wound up jolting sideways and bumping into the other Lion. 

“Hey!”

“I meant to do that!”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Pidge pulled up a private video chat on Lance’s screen. “Will you stop flirting and get out here?? We’re kind of fighting a war, remember!”

“Whoops! Sorry, Pidge!” As Lance spun away and began shooting again, he felt warm amusement radiating all around him. 

What? he asked her.

She responded with an affectionate mental nudge, and he got a brief flash of Keith in her cockpit, snarking at Shiro, teasing Lance over the comms, pulling stunts. The memory felt like humour, affection, and warm approval.

Oh. 

There was more to it that he wasn’t quite getting, he thought, but Red was telling him… that he reminded her of Keith? 

He pushed the joysticks forward and chased after another fighter.

 

 

three months ago.

 

He was on the bridge, pacing back and forth. He was fed up, face set in a frustrated mask, arms waving as he talked, feeling his stomach clech with worry. Hunk was hovering nearby, and Pidge was crouched tensely in their chair, typing away at a dauntingly large cloud of holoscreens.

“So he’s just… gone?” Lance scowled. They were over this. They’d _done_ this, they’d _talked_ about it, and now what? Keith had taken off again? Without telling _anyone?_

“The Black Lion doesn’t appear to be anywhere within hailing distance.” Allura was frowning at her display, flicking rapidly between starmaps. “This was a routine patrol. He isn’t anywhere near any of the planets he should be checking on.”

Lance stopped at the main windows, trying to push down the anxiety and guilt rising into his chest. He’d honestly thought that Keith trusted him more than that now. That they were over the stupid rivalry thing, that Keith would come to him before he made any more impulsive decisions. 

He’d thought Keith trusted him. Thought that he’d done enough as the literal right hand man, as his support and confidant and _friend_.

Apparently not. 

“Guys,” said Pidge, “I’m picking up a comm!” They sent their screen to the main display just as a burst of static resolved into Keith’s voice. 

“-hear me, I repeat, Castle of Lions do you copy? This is Keith. The Black Lion has picked up a signal and I think it might be Shiro. I’m heading there now but I don’t know if I can make it in time. Requesting backup. Allura, do you copy? Castle of Lions? Anyone?”

Allura’s eyes went wide, and Pidge whooped out loud.

“Keith, we hear you!”

“Send us the coordinates, Keith, and we can wormhole to you immediately!”

“Ten-four, Allura.” The reply was crackly but it was there.

Lance sagged with relief. Shiro. Keith had found Shiro, and he was okay, and they were coming home. He was safe- they were both safe. Keith hadn’t gone off on his own, it was just stupid Black Lion mumbo-jumbo again. 

_But he didn’t tell you he was going to look_ , a voice whispered inside him. _He didn’t call you for backup. He could have._

Lance squished the tiny voice inside him, forced it down. He was safe. That was all that mattered. He squashed his feelings down and held them there, kept them hidden, while the team wormholed to Keith, while they ran down to the hangar, he smiled and laughed and cheered when Keith half-carried Shiro down the Black Lion’s ramp. And if he hesitated a little before throwing himself into the group hug around Shiro, if he was careful not to touch Keith, if he ignored the sideways look that Keith shot him, well. He was only being careful. Being professional. Keeping everything light, and making sure that everyone could lean on him, that they all knew he was there and fine and willing to help. 

That was his job, after all.

 

 

two months ago.

 

He was in the common room on the Castle, smashing buttons and squinting at the bottom-left corner of a split screen. 

“No- Pidge nononononono don’t you dare don’t you- AGH!”

A blue shell slammed into Yoshi on-screen, spinning Lance’s car around. On the other split-screen, Bowser zoomed by and crossed the finish line. Pidge punched the air and flopped back on to the pile of blankets that was their makeshift gaming den. From his spot on the couch behind them, Hunk leaned forward to fist-bump them.

“Nice one, Pidge!” He popped a handful of space popcorn into his mouth. “Lance, that means it’s my turn to play them next.”

“How did you get so good at all these vintage games?” Lance grumbled, passing his controller over his shoulder to Hunk. “It’s cheating. You’re using your tech wizardry to cheat somehow.”

“Excuse you,” said Pidge. “I have the nerdiest brother in the world, of course I’m gonna know my way around the good old shit. I had to learn to thrash his ass at Mariokart or they’d revoke my sibling card.” They stretched, kicking at his arm in a pay attention to me way that Lance knew well, while Hunk loaded up the menu for the next race. Lance jabbed their knee with his elbow, not even looking around, and reached over them to grab a fistful of not-popcorn.

“So what’s up with you and Keith?”

Lance twisted around to look at them. “What?”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “You heard me. You and Keith. You’ve been spending a lot of time holed up with him. What gives?”

Lance felt his ears getting warm. “It’s not that,” he said. “It’s Red Paladin stuff. You know. Strategy. We’re talking strategy.”

“Uh-huh,” said Hunk. “Talking strategy. Til two in the morning. Yeah, that definitely sounds like something you would do.”

Lance flushed, thinking of the nights sitting on the floor of Keith’s room, the quiet and the softness of their voices and the blue glow of space, the way their conversations meandered from strategy to hope to homesickness and fear. “It is,” he insisted. “We just talk. Being Black Paladin and everything is rough on him. He needs someone to talk to, and I...” Lance trailed off.

“And that person is you?” Pidge looked a little skeptical.

“Well, we kind of just… got in the habit when Shiro was gone. Y’know, what with me being his right hand man and all.” Lance hesitated. “And, you know, since he got back, Shiro hasn’t exactly been the most….approachable.”

Hunk hummed agreement, and Pidge nodded, frowning. “Yeah. You know, the other day, he snapped at Coran for the weirdest thing. I’ve never seen him mad like that, even with Slav.” They frowned. “I don’t like it.” 

Hunk nudged Lance with his foot. “Hey, but no distracting us. Keith. We were talking about you spending time with your _crush_. Like, lots of time.”

“ _Hunk_.” Lance flopped back against Hunk’s legs. “He’s. I’m. I mean- _yes_ , but also shut up, because it’s not a thing. It’s never going to be a thing. I have about as much chance with Keith as I do with Allura-”

“Which is to say, none,” interjected Pidge.

“Exactly,” said Lance, ignoring their snort of derision. “Because just like Allura, he’s just _not interested_. I’m doomed and that’s it. Let it go.”

Hunk shrugged, loading up Mushroom Gorge. “Whatever you say. I’m just saying- Loner McLone Wolf is staying up with you at all hours of the night to talk about his _feelings_. There’s at least something going on there. That’s all I’m saying.”

Lance groaned, and covered his face with his hands.

 

six weeks ago.

 

He was waiting in the hallway, practicing his expressions in one of the reflective windows looking out onto space and picking vaguely critically at a zit on his jaw. Coran had recently decided they were all going to upload personal video logs to the Castle’s memory banks.

(“So…..vlogs?” Lance had said, when Coran had explained the idea.

“No, no, my boy.” Coran shook his head. “These will be a slice of your daily lives, your very selves! We need to preserve records of the paladins for future generations, give them a sense of the real people behind the legends of Voltron!”

“Yeah, so vlogs,” said Lance. “Video blogs.” Coran had only given his most enigmatic shrug, the one he pulled either when he didn’t understand Earth technicalities or when he didn’t want to admit he was wrong (often both), and wandered off.)

Lance was actually been pretty excited about this. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he figured he’d just wing it, and whatever came out of his mouth would probably be fine. Accurate, at least, to the way he normally was, and that was the whole point of this, right? So he was in the hallway, waiting for his turn to use the specialized Altean equipment (or, as Pidge called it, the space camcorder).

He was checking his reflection again when the door to the recording room slammed open, nearly knocking him over. He spun on his heel, recovering, and nearly got knocked over again by Keith as he barrelled blindly into the hall.

“Jesus, Keith, way to sweep a guy off his-” Lance started, bracing himself on Keith’s shoulder, but Keith jerked away. 

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, voice hoarse and cracked.

“Hey-” Lance wobbled and drew back, surprised, reaching after Keith. “You okay?” But Keith was already gone, face turned away from Lance to rush headlong down the hall. He stumbled a little, shoving off the wall, and careened around the corner and out of sight, and Lance watched him go, feeling strange and hollow and a little disappointed. Only the night before, he’d sat giggling on Keith’s floor, punch-drunk with exhaustion, vision swimming in the low blue lights, laughing at Keith’s impression of the coalition leader they’d had to deal with that day. And now- when things got serious, when it seemed like Keith could really use someone to talk to, someone to lean on, he shoved Lance away and went to go stew in his worries, like the idiot he was.

Lance sighed.

For all that they talked now, that they shared worries and strategies late into the nights, for all the progress they’d made and how well they still worked together… Keith still didn’t trust him. He still pushed him away, still refused to let him in. 

It was his own fault, probably. It had been Lance who’d thought up the stupid rivalry, Lance who had poked and prodded at Keith, who’d provoked him and yelled at him and made fun of him when they first had to work together. No wonder Keith didn’t trust him now. No wonder he had trouble opening up, when Lance had made it so clear that he didn’t like him and thought he was no good to lead. No wonder he didn’t believe him now, when he offered support and trust and-

He cut himself off. It was stupid to even think it. Lance was an idiot, and he only had himself to blame. 

Lance shook his head and headed into the recording room, all of his previous energy gone. He settled in the huge chair in front of the desk, and tried to summon back his previous spark,the flirtiness and fickleness and sense of fun. 

It didn’t matter that Keith wouldn’t open up. It wasn’t like he’d ever wanted more from Keith in the first place. It was fine.

 

 

one month ago.

 

He was walking through the main Castle hallway, worries curling themselves into a tight fist in his stomach. It had been a long day, a long fight, with too many losses and no real gains, and he was exhausted- but Keith hadn’t shown up to dinner, and he was the Red Paladin, right? So he was the Black Paladin’s right-hand man. So it was his job to take care of him, or at least to make sure he ate something. For the sake of the team. For Voltron. And if he was worried, well. That was part of the being the Red Paladin too. 

He touched a pad on the wall, and the common room door slid silently open.

Lance’s stomach sank.

Keith was curled in a ball on one of the sunken couches, knees pulled to his chest. He had a holoscreen pulled up in front of him, replaying the castle’s footage of that day’s battle. The screen was tiny, but the resolution was perfect- the castle’s cameras had caught every explosion, every window shattering on the huge Galra cruisers as they caught fire and ripped open, every sentry and crew member and huge chunks of debris as it spun into the void of space.

Lance crossed the room and flicked the holoscreen shut.

Keith startled and looked up at him. He had deep bags under his eyes.

“It’s not worth it,” said Lance, collapsing on the couch next to him.

Keith took a shaky breath, tightening his grip around his knees. “I know,” he said, “it’s just…”

“I know,” said Lance quietly.

“Those ships are just so huge. How many people do we kill every day, Lance? How many?”

Lance shook his head, feeling the shadow of the the thought looming over him. “We’re at war, Keith. You gotta remember that.”

“They’re not the enemy, though. They’re just people.”

“They’re working for Zarkon.”

“But they’re still people. They’re _my_ people, Lance.” Keith’s voice was strained.

Lance chewed his lip, trying to find the right words, wondering if there even were any right words, but Keith kept on.

“What if…” he trailed off.

“What?”

“Forget it. It’s dumb.”

“What?” Lance sat up and nudged him. “It’s not dumb. You can be impulsive and hotheaded, but you’re not dumb. Most of the time.”

He was hoping for a smile, but Keith’s face stayed drawn and sad. He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “It’s just… what if, what if someone on those ships is related to me?” He looked away. “I… We’d never have any way of knowing. I’d never know.” 

Lance heard the word, even though Keith didn’t say it. _Family_.

The family that Keith had never had, had never met, and had always desperately wanted. The reason his eyes lit up when Lance mentioned his nieces and nephews. The reason for the guarded, hungry look that flashed through his eyes whenever Lance mentioned his mama. 

They didn’t talk about family. Not really.

“Keith, I…” Lance hovered his hand over his shoulder, and let it settle on his back. He scooted closer, fumbling for something more than meaningless platitudes, and gingerly slid his arm around Keith’s shoulders. 

Keith stiffened. For a second he was tense and still, but then all the fight seemed to drain out of him at once. He leaned into Lance’s hold, letting out a long breath, uncurling his body and letting his head flop down on his shoulder. 

Lance froze, unable to quite believe that that had worked. He knew he was a tactile person, someone who took comfort from being touched and held, but he knew not everyone was like that. Pidge, for one, had never been a hugger before they’d met Lance, and even now, after prolonged exposure, they still had days where they hated to be touched at all.

And Keith-

He’d never really been sure where he stood with Keith. At first, they’d been at each other’s throats- but even now that they were closer, now when they spent hours talking, he’d still had trouble reading him. So he’d kept his distance, keeping his touches small and careful and friendly, nothing more. Nothing overwhelming.

But now, Keith was curling his fingers into his shirt, burying his face into his shoulder like he was starved for it. He seemed not to quite know what to do with himself, leaning awkwardly over Lance’s lap, all elbows and sharp angles and uncurling knees. Lance tightened his grip around his back, and Keith’s shoulders shook. Lance could feel the heat of his breath on his collarbone, the shuddering of his back- and- oh.

Oh.

Lance turned on the couch, wrapping his other arm tightly around him, and Keith jerked up, red-eyed, staring into his face. 

“Shit- I, fuck, I’m sorry, I-” He tried to tug away, but Lance shook his head.

“Hey,” he said, “hey, no, it’s okay. C’mere.” He shuffled his legs, resting them on either side of the other paladin, and gently tugged Keith back to him. “You gotta let it out.”

To his surprise, Keith let himself be pulled basically into his lap with no objection. He let out a long, shuddering breath, and rested his forehead on Lance’s shoulder. Lance wrapped his arms around him, and after a moment, felt Keith’s arms snake around his back, gripping him tightly. He muttered something that Lance couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Lance was quiet for a second. He traced little circles on Keith’s back, and felt the other boy shudder. He closed his eyes for a second, praying for strength, wishing this was a completely different situation, and kept tracing slow, comforting circles.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said absently.

“It’s not okay!” Keith’s voice was angry and thick with tears, muffled in Lance’s shirt. “It’s not okay, Lance, these are all- all these people that we’re killing, it’s my fault. I’m in charge of Voltron, I’m the one who’s killing them! It’s not all just fun and games being the leader, Lance! I’m responsible for… for, for so much death, and destruction, and-” His voice choked off.

“I know,” said Lance, and he felt something twist in his chest. “I know. You hate it. You’ve never wanted to be leader.” His mouth turned down wryly. “Not like me,” he said, trying to make his voice light, “but then, I’m an idiot. I couldn’t have handled half the shit you take on for us.”

Keith didn’t reply.

“I mean-” said Lance, “if I had known how much pressure it was to be Black Paladin? If I had known I’d have to be the one making all the calls, taking on all of this, staying up at all hours… I mean, you know, anyone would want to stay up all night with Allura, but not like… to plan strategy, haha. Um.” He shook his head. “Sorry. That wasn’t funny, and I’m rambling, I guess, but… I mean it, Keith. You’re making the best of a shitty situation. You’re doing a hard job that you didn’t even want in the first place. And- we need you. And the universe needs you, which is why we keep doing this. For the planets we’re freeing, the people we’re saving. You know?” Lance let out a long sigh. “It’s shitty, but. They need us. And we need you.”

Keith’s fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, and he muttered something inaudible.

“What?” 

Keith lifted his head up. His eyes were red-rimmed, the violet brighter than usual in his wrecked face. 

“I couldn’t do it without you,” he said.

Lance shrugged. “Nah,” he said, “You’d be okay. You’re all Mr. Stoic and whatever. I mean, it was rocky at first, but now you-”

“No, I mean it,” Keith insisted, eyes flicking back and forth between Lance’s. “I really do. I couldn’t do this without you.” He licked his lips, and Lance’s eyes were drawn down to the motion. He forced himself to look back up. “I…” Keith faltered, and lifted one hand, seeming unsure of what to do with it. “Lance, I just.” He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes, letting his hand fall to Lance’s shoulder. “You don’t know how much you help me. You really don’t.”

Lance flicked his eyes over Keith’s face. He thought of the long nights of talking, the trust, the joy he’d shared, and he decided to take a risk.

Carefully, he cupped the back of Keith’s neck in his hand, threading his fingers through soft, dark hair. He pulled him forward, letting their foreheads fall together. “So tell me.”

Keith made a little noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Lance felt a sharp burst of hope in his chest. Did he-? Was it possible?

“I don’t know if I can.”

“So show me.” Keith’s eyes snapped open, holding his gaze. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Where had that come from? Was he insane? Had he accidentally got high off Altean painkillers when he wasn’t paying attention? He was an idiot, and now Keith would never trust him, and-

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. His lips parted- _god_ \- and he tilted his head slightly. A question? An invitation? Lance could practically hear his heart pick up speed, racing like a Vaskan podfleet, as Keith leaned in closer. He hesitated, licking his lips, and then-

The silence was shattered by the familiar hiss of the doors opening. Keith ripped his hands away and threw himself bodily across the room just as Shiro and Pidge walked in, chatting. 

It took a few seconds before Lance realized that he’d moved too, without even realizing it, and was sprawled back against the curve of the couch, cold and shocked and gasping for breath.

“-and I think we could really expand our range by… oh, hey, you guys.” Shiro waved vaguely, rubbing his tired eyes, and wandered over to sink down onto the couch near Keith. “What’s up?”

Lance was momentarily speechless, but Pidge was giving him a suspicious sideways look, so he managed to dredge up some words and string them together into what he hoped was a coherent sentence. “Uhhh… not much?” He spread his arms over the back of the couch, trying to look nonchalant. “Not much at all, just, uh, just telling Keith not to worry so much, uh, about the mission. Ya know. Red Paladin stuff and, and whatever.” He very carefully avoided looking at Keith.

“Oh,” said Shiro. He leveled his gaze on Keith, eyes narrowing despite the dark bags underneath. “Were you rewatching mission footage again?”

Keith was bright red. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Shiro crossed his arms.

“He totally was,” Lance jumped in. “But don’t worry, I was just telling him to get to bed, I mean-” Lance stumbled over his words, realizing what he’d just said, an image of himself and Keith in bed popping vividly into his head- “to get some sleep, of course. Yeah. Cause we’re all, you know. Exhausted.” He forced himself to stop talking, hoping his face was wearing a normal human expression.

Pidge was looking between Lance and Keith with an expression too shrewd for Lance’s comfort. Suddenly, their eyebrows shot up, and he could practically see the lightbulb powering on over their head. He ignored them in favour of staring at the glowing purple lights on Shiro’s Galra arm and wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

“It is pretty late,” Shiro was saying, “and we’re all tired. Why don’t we all head to bed? You know we have that early morning briefing with Allura tomorrow, and we’re all going to need to be alert for that.”

Pidge opened their mouth, but to Lance’s surprise, Keith cut him off.

“You’re right, Shiro. I’m pretty beat.” He got up, swinging over the back of the couches so that he was behind Shiro and Pidge, hunched over, hands in his pockets. “I’m gonna call it a day.” He sent one unreadable glance in Lance’s direction, and looked away. “G’night, everyone.”

Lance watched him leave the room, mind racing. Did he want him to follow? Was he trying to drop hints, to get Lance to come after him? Or was he trying to escape? That was probably it. He was probably angry at Lance, and done, and weirded out. But then- but then, what if-

Pidge and Shiro resumed their conversation, but Lance barely heard them.

_What if he wasn’t?_

Lance shot up, stumbling, ignoring Pidge’s snort and Shiro’s look of concern.

“I’m gonna- he forgot to, I- I’m going to bed too. Night.” Lance was out of the room like a shot, slamming his hand on the panel to open the door. He very deliberately did not look back, but took off down the hallway in the direction of Keith’s room.

Keith must have practically run all the way back to his room, because there was no sign of him in the hallway. Lance slid to a stop outside of Keith’s room, tension coiling in his chest. 

Stupid, he thought, this is stupid. He was trying to get away from an awkward situation. You were hitting on him and he didn’t know how to say no. Go to bed. Leave. 

Lance hesitated, but then steeled himself. No. He wanted to know. He had to know.

He knocked gently. 

There was no response. 

“Keith?”

Lance knocked again, a little louder. He let his fist rest on the cool metal of the door, let it flatten slowly until his hand was resting against the door. He leaned forward until his forehead touched the cold surface, and remembered how it had felt to touch Keith’s forehead, to thread his fingers through his hair, to feel his breath ghosting over his lips.

There was silence from the other side of the door. 

Suddenly, Lance felt all the exhaustion of the day. All the leaping hope he’d felt stilled into a leaden knot at the base of his stomach, and his whole body ached. 

He pulled back and raised his hand one more time, closing his eyes. Just once more. Just one more try. 

Just try.

Sighing, he let his hand fall to his side, shaking out his hand as though to banish the feeling of soft hair and slim shoulder blades beneath cotton. He turned away and began the long walk back to his own room.

 

 

one month ago.

 

He was sneaking with Keith through the dim halls of an underground Galra base, covering their progress with sweeps of his bayard. The morning briefing with Allura had led to a meeting with the Coalition leaders, had led to a snap strategy decision and an immediate, right-now-same-day-no-time-to-waste mission. Hunk and Shiro were on their own mission in Yellow, Pidge was running intel support, and Keith and Lance had headed to the surface of Tuibruib in the Red and Black Lions, chasing information that might lead them to whatever Lotor was planning next. Their information had indicated that his plans were coming to a head, so time was of the essence and all the paladins were working at maximum efficiency.

In all the meetings and recon and preparation, there’d been exactly zero time to corner Keith alone. Zero time to figure out what the hell had happened last night, or even to talk about where they stood and if they were okay. Keith, of course, was acting like nothing had happened- so Lance was taking his cue and doing his goddamn job and trying to pretend like he wasn’t burning up with curiosity and want and the desperate desire to just talk about it, just tell him, just kiss his stupid lips and drag him off into a corner for a good long while. 

But they were in an enemy base, on an alien planet, trying to break into a high-security compound full of people trying to kill the. So the corner was pretty much out for now.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. They hadn’t seen any Galra yet- or even any sentries, and there was an uneasy prickling in the base of Lance’s spine.

“We knew this base was going to have minimal security,” said Keith, not even bothering to look at Lance. “It’s fine. We just got lucky, for once in our lives.”

“ _Or_ we’re about to walk into a trap,” said Lance. Keith eyed him sideways, frowning in a thoughtful way, and seemed to be about to speak, when the helmet comms crackled to life.

“Scans aren’t showing any biorhythms in your area,” said Pidge in his ear. “There’s sentries a couple halls over, but I’ve jammed the security feeds,so you guys should have a clear shot at the main computer banks, if you go quick.”

Keith flashed Lance a look that seemed to say _see? It’s fine_ , and darted down the hallway. Lance hesitated, but followed, sweeping his gun around him in a tight circle. Ahead of him Keith pressed a hand to a glowing purple hexagon. The door slid open, and Keith held it open. He jerked his head in a _hurry up_ motion.

Lance darted in. Behind him, Keith let the door slide closed, and hurried across the room to the control panel. The room was large and functional, with a huge, slanted window overlooking a fighter hangar. It was just the kind of place where they usually had to take down a whole pile of sentries and usually two or three commanding officers- but here it was. Empty.

Lance hovered by the entrance, glancing from Keith to the door and back. He kept his bayard trained on the door’s controls, nerves churning in his gut.

“Pidge,” he murmured. “Are we still clear?”

“You’re clear,” they said. “Sentries are in the hallway, but they’ve passed you by. You’re good.”

Lance didn’t like it. It was never this easy. It was never this quick, not with Lotor. 

There was something they were missing here. 

He chewed his lip, and noticed a loud tapping noise echoing through the room, making him clench his hands again.

“You’re tapping your foot again,” said Keith. His back was still to Lance, and he was pulling up a menu in Galran on the holoscreen.

Lance checked himself, and the noise stopped. Oh. 

He forced himself to stay still, but his hand was still tapping nervously on the guard of his rifle. Keith looked up. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just twitchy.” 

“Lance,” said Keith. He turned away from the holoscreen as Pidge’s hacking face popped up over the Galran text. “It’s fine. We’re almost done here, and then we’re gone. Whatever’s going on here, it won’t matter.” His eyes flickered across Lance’s face, but the holoscreen dinged suddenly and he turned away. “Pidge? You good?”

“Yep,” they said. “I’m in. I just need you to put in my override code manually, okay? And then you guys are good to roll.”

“Got it.” Lance’s visor flashed with Pidge’s code as they sent it to both paladins, and Keith started to enter it through the control panel. Suddenly, the laughing cartoon Pidge on the holoscreen above them bounced twice and vanished, and everything turned red.

“Pidge?” said Lance. “That was supposed to happen, right?”

The red lights began to flash, and an alarm started whooping, the sound pulsing blindingly in time with the lights.

“Pidge, do you copy!” Lance grabbed Keith’s arm, and tugged him towards the exit.

Suddenly, metal blast doors slammed down over all of the entrances to the room. Lance pulled up short. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Keith activate his bayard. 

Lance shot at the doors, a series of quick blasts that usually made quick work on these sorts of bases. The doors absorbed the shots, briefly glowing blue and then fading back to steely grey. At the other door, Keith was slashing at the metal, and having similar results. These clearly weren’t regular blast doors, so Lance turned his attention to the control panel again, and the windows beyond it, looking for a weak point, something he could use, some escape route. His eye caught on something moving on one of the screens, and his heart plummeted.

“Keith,” he yelled. “We’ve got company!” 

Lotor’s ship was landing outside, its colours distinctive against the regular Galra colour scheme. Keith swore, and Lance started trying to break the window. After a few blasts, it started to show cracks, and he activated his helmet’s visor to protect his eyes.

Keith joined him, but as he was vaulting over the control panel, another blast door slid down, plunging the room into dim red darkness. Suddenly, the alarms seemed louder, screaming in his ears like an ignored warning. 

Lance looked at Keith. 

“Now what?”

“Well, they’ll have to come in here at some point,” said Keith, shrugging. “And when they do, we’ll be ready for them.” He lifted his bayard, twirling it to make his point, and Lance snorted. 

“Sure, samurai,” he said. “And if there’s too many, we can always count on Red and Black to come haul us out of here.” He didn’t say what they were probably both thinking- that at this depth under the planet’s surface, it would take days of digging or basically a miracle for their lions to make it to them. He stepped closer to Keith and covered his back, sweeping his rifle’s sights between the doors on all sides of the room.

They waited, tense and ready, but no one appeared. The room was empty, just them and the dark control panel and the whooping alarms- and then suddenly, the alarms cut off. The red lights vanished, and the room looked normal again, quiet and still.

Keith lowered his bayard hesitantly. He traded looks with Lance, and then stepped away, pressing his palm to one of the door panels. Lance watched him go, the sudden silence ringing ominously in his ears.

The blast door stayed firmly in place.

Keith turned back to Lance, frowning, a question in his eyes. Lance shrugged. 

“Fucking Lotor,” said Keith. “He’s playing with us. I-” he paused, and Lance heard a faint hissing noise. “Do you smell that?”

Lance sniffed. The air did smell different, kind of like-

“Activate your helmet!” said Lance, slamming the button for his full-face visor.

“Wha-”

“Do it now! He’s gassing the room!”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he slammed his visor down as well. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, as the room filled with an orange haze. 

_Please let us have closed these in time. Please- pleasepleaseplease_

He could still smell the gas, faint and acrid as it cycled through his helmet’s atmospheric systems. If they’d closed their helmets in time- if this gas was a variant their suits could filter out- if maybe this was a gas which wasn’t harmful to humans at all, then maybe, maybe they’d be okay.

Too many ifs. Too many possibilities, and there was nothing they could do here, no way out. Please. Lance took a deep breath, the air tasting metallic on his tongue, strange and unfamiliar. He started to feel lightheaded.

“I don’t think the suits can filter it,” he heard. Distantly, as though underwater.

Keith’s face was illuminated in his helmet, glowing blue through the orange haze. His eyes were huge and serious, fear showing in his eyes. He was going in and out of focus, seeming to move forward and then away from Lance again.

“Lance, I need to-”

He felt himself sway, and saw Keith reach for him. His vision dimmed at the edges-

“Lance!”

The world flashed red, and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's edits: 
> 
> Hunk shrugged, loading up Mushroom Gorge. “Whatever you say. I’m just saying- Loner McLone Wolf is staying up with you at all hours of the night to talk about his feelings. There’s at least something going on there. That’s
> 
> GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY
> 
> is all I’m saying.”
> 
> -Olivia is the best beta  
> -shoutout to my subconscious for coming in clutch when i had writers block and giving me the scene i needed in a dream  
> -honestly though, poor lance, i feel like every chapter just keeps ending with him in worse and worse situations
> 
> -thank you all for following so far! Getting comments on this is genuinely what makes me want to keep writing, so thank you all so so so much for everything you say <3 bless you all  
> -if anyone wants to chat or speculate about Voltron meta or just like talk about webcomics please come hit me up on tumblr! ad-asterism.tumblr.com  
> -merry boxing day


	8. all just stars, part ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those good good Prison TimesTM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for torture and for needles in particular. If that squicks you out, skip from “He rolled his shoulders, tugging at the restraints again” to “Finally, the medtech stepped away”. There's also uhhh some choking, some blood, some very minor smut...
> 
> Actually, come to think of it, this whole chapter is quite violent... if any of that’s going to be a problem for you, please please please [message me](http://ad-asterism.tumblr.com/) or comment and I will do my best to either send you an edited version or give you a quick rundown so you can be all caught up :) <3 <3 stay safe, friendos.

one month ago.

 

Sometimes, on slow mornings in the Castle, Lance woke disoriented, one foot still in dreams about his mamá, his family, Varadero Beach. He’d blink up at the cool blue darkness and the metal ceiling and feel the ghost of his own room spin and align with the outline of his bunk, dreams receding into his skull as he grasped desperately for the last shreds of sensation, baking bread and salt breeze and friendly hands ruffling his hair. 

Some mornings it took actually rolling out of bed before he properly registered the faintly recycled taste of the air and remembered all over again where he was. Sometimes he made it all the way to the kitchen before he was fully awake. Sometimes it took the alarm and Allura’s call and Blue nudging insistently at his mind to pull him back to the present, all three together before he was fully present in this moment, in this reality.

This was nothing like that.

Lance woke with his temples throbbing and his body aching. His mouth tasted as though something small and furry had crawled inside it and died, and his limbs felt heavy and bruised, but he was wide awake, aware, and moving before he’d even consciously decided to, fear churning with memory and spurring him up off the cold ground-

_The blast doors sliding shut. The metallic taste of gas. Keith’s eyes, huge and violet in the haze._

He shoved himself up off the floor, and fell sideways, biting back a gasp as his arms flooded with pins and needles. He’d been lying facedown on a cold metal floor with his left arm bent under him at an awkward angle, apparently long enough to lose all feeling, and his hands were cuffed together with a solidly worked piece of glowing metal. He did his best to shake his arm out, grimacing, and cast frantically around the cell. Where was Keith? Were they keeping him somewhere different, was he already gone-? Lance shuffled around to scan the small cell, and felt his chest flood with relief.

Keith was lying on his side against the back wall, still unconscious. His hands were cuffed, his face was bruised, and he was missing his armour, but he looked more or less unharmed. 

Lance scooted ungracefully across the floor and began checking him over, using the first aid training they’d all had drilled into them at the Garrison. He still wasn’t awake, but he was breathing fine, and nothing seemed to be broken- maybe the gas was more effective on Galra biology than humans? Or maybe he’d gotten more of it before he’d closed his helmet? Whatever. Lance just hoped he woke up soon. _Please wake up._

Shuffling around, he propped himself against the back wall. His neck was sore, and his body felt like someone’d thrown him across a room, but he got as comfortable as he could, and very gently pulled Keith off the floor to rest his head in his lap. It was an awkward maneuver to make with his hands in the thick cuffs, but he managed it, resting the cuff on his knees to keep its weight off the other paladin’s chest.

He wasn’t sure what Keith would say about this particular arrangement when he woke up, but to be honest, Lance was kind of past caring. It was for first aid purposes. Sort of. Lance could monitor his vitals better like this, right? And this way Lance could watch the door and take care of Keith all at the same time. It was practical. Plus, it had to better than the floor.It had nothing to do with comfort. Nothing at all.

He smoothed the other boy’s hair away from his face, and took stock of the situation.

They were in a cell, no surprise there. Galra, obviously, all hard metal and smooth joints and the sallow purple lighting that did no one’s complexion any favours. And not very big- ten feet square at most, with nothing in it but the cold floor, a pile of purplish rags, and a panel on the wall which Lance knew from previous incarcerations folded out into the Galra version of prison toilets. The door was smooth and hard, flush with the wall, and was only even recognizable as a door because of the barely-visible seam at its edges- there was no gap, no handle, nothing to break or bend. So, fairly standard-issue Galra prison. Not exactly the Ritz, but that was nothing new.

More worryingly, both his and Keith’s armour was missing- they’d been left with only the tight black undersuit that was standard issue for under the paladin armour. It was warm, at least, made for protecting from the vacuum of space, so that was good- but the missing armour left Lance feeling vulnerable and bare. Not to mention, without their helmets, there were no comms, so no way for them to contact the rest of the team.

Or was there?

Tentatively, Lance reached for Red, trying to find her warmth in the back of his mind. There- there she was- but she felt faint, distant. Instead of her usual roaring fire, he could only find banked coals. He thought he felt her stir when he reached for her, but he couldn’t tell what she was saying, couldn’t feel her mood. Couldn’t even tell if she was anywhere nearby, and that scared him more than anything else about this whole mess.

The usual protocol for rescue was to sit tight and wait for your lion to find you. Lance knew this. He’d done it more than once, and it was always fine. Being in Galra prison just got tedious after a while, especially if it took more than a few hours, or if the officer in charge particularly liked monologuing. But still… there was something about this that he really, really didn’t like. 

Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t feel Red. Maybe it was the lack of armour, or maybe it was the fact that Keith still hadn’t woken up. Either way, he resolved, watching the door warily, he was going to be on the lookout for any advantage.

 

Lance must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew was the cell door slamming open, jolting him awake. 

He’d apparently slid down the wall when he dozed off, because he was only half-leaned against it now, chin propped inelegantly on his chest. Keith must have gone from unconscious to being properly asleep, as well- the other boy was curled on his side, torso pressed against Lance’s leg. 

The bang of the door ricocheted Lance to high alert, and he jerked instinctively, thrashing upright. Keith was knocked awake, and lifted himself into an elbow, staring up at Lance.

“Lance…?” he blinked sleepily, and Lance wished he had time to appreciate the moment better- “What-”

Lance kicked him, just as a huge, portly Galra swaggered into the room. He was followed by four robot sentries. They flanked the general, keeping their weapons trained on the two humans. He cast a disdainful glance over the two paladins, and gestured impatiently at Lance. 

“That one.”

Lance’s eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet, ready to fight. Before he could do anything, though, he found Keith in front of him: fists raised, slight frame crouched in an unsteady combat position.

“No,” he rasped. 

Lance felt something flip in his chest: a familiar, almost nostalgic feeling. 

Once, he would have thought it was anger. He would have been irritated at Keith for trying to one-up him, for trying to take all the glory for himself. He would’ve pushed him aside, said something stupid, tried to show that he was the hero here, thanks very much, and taken satisfaction in Keith’s frustration, in his own perceived victory.

He knew better now.

He stepped up next to the slighter boy, and felt their shoulders brush. Keith leaned into the touch, stabilizing himself on Lance even as he kept his stony gaze trained on the Galra general. Lance could tell that Keith was still a little unsteady on his feet, alien drugs still working their way through his system. He knew, though, that the Red Paladin would hate to show weakness in front of an enemy, would hate to for Lance to hold him up or put a hand on his shoulder in this exact moment, so Lance contented himself with being a steady pillar next to him, ready to fight by his side, solid and trustworthy and there.

Instinctively, Lance’s hand hovered over his left leg, ready to call his bayard, before he remembered that it was gone. He formed a fist instead, and held it in front of him, mimicking Keith’s stance.

The Galra general looked between them incredulously, and snorted a laugh. 

“It is amusing, the way you think you can still escape. Truly. You don’t even have armour.” He shook his head, chuckling, and gestured at the robot sentries. “Carry on. Try not to break them too much.” He turned and left the cell, and the robots advanced on them.

The first sentry came from the right, and Keith grabbed it by the arm, twisting it away and into the one behind it. Both sentries slammed into the wall, tripped up in the small space of the cell.

Lance kicked the third one in a move he’d learned from Hunk, aiming to break its leg above the knee joint. He grabbed for its gun and yanked. The robot pulled it away, stepping back, and the laser gun went off, leaving a smoking hole in the ceiling. Lance was pulled around and forward by its momentum, just as the fourth robot stepped forward. It knocked Keith to the ground with the side of its gun, sending him sprawling. 

“No!” Lance turned from his tussle for the gun, lunging for Keith, but the sentry grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back. He grappled against it, and another robot hit him in the ribs with the butt of its gun.

“Lance!” Keith struggled up onto an elbow, reaching for him, but the robot knocked him back again. The other sentry began to tow Lance out of the room, kicking at the air. Keith leapt up, clawing the robot even as it held him back. “ _Lance!_ ” His face- god, Lance couldn’t look at his face.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he told Keith desperately, “Red is coming. She is. She won’t leave us here! I’ll be back, I promise, I- augh!”

The Galra general had slapped him across the face. “Shut up.” 

The door slid closed.

The sentries marched him down a series of hallways. Lance tried to remember the turns they took- left, right, left, another left- but they all looked the same and after a while he lost track. The general stopped outside a nondescript grey door, pressing his hand to a glowing purple pad, and the sentries dragged him inside.

Lance’s first thought was that the room looked like something out of a bad horror movie. The walls were lined with glass compartments, tanks of unidentifiable glowing fluids, and racks of wicked-looking metal implements. The room was dominated by what looked like a large, sleek dentist’s chair, with alien proportions and a variety of straps and cuffs designed to hold down multiple species of patient.

In short, it was the perfect mad alien scientist’s lab.

But frankly, mad-science was more or less on par with what he had been expecting, so...expectation met. Aliens dissection tables, ok. Lance had seen at least a dozen movies about this. So it could have been worse- it could have been something unexpectedly fucked up, something new and horrifyingly creative. All things considered, he definitely wasn’t as scared as he could have been. He could deal with this.

Still… it wasn’t exactly nice to be strapped down in a creepy-ass space dentist’s chair and left there. Which was exactly what the sentries proceeded to do.

Lance lay tensely on the molded chair, with his head, arms, torso and legs all strapped in place. He stared at the purple-lit ceiling, listening to the ambient spaceship sounds all around him; the vibration of feet, the distant hum of an engine, the small echoes and coughs any ship makes in deep space. His thoughts were racing at first, desperately listening for clues, for screams, for anyone approaching the room. He flinched at noises, conjuring druids sweeping in and laughing Galra slicing off limbs one by one.

He’d seen Shiro’s arm. He’d seen what happened when he had panic attacks, whenever anyone so much as suggested he go to the med bay. Lance knew perfectly well what could happen here, what was going to happen if the team didn’t show up soon.

He took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax. It was fine. They were coming. It’d been hours now, and they were amazing at showing up in the nick of time. He just had to wait, and calm down, and stop worrying.

He distracted himself by worrying about Keith instead. 

What if after they’d dragged him away, they’d taken Keith too? What if the reason no one was coming for him was that they were busy dissecting Keith in some other creepy operating room, pinning him down, experimenting on him because of his half-Galra side? Did they know about him? Could they tell?

Lance couldn’t shake the image of Keith’s face, the way he’d looked at him as he was being dragged away. He’d looked...haunted. That was the only word for it. As though he’d almost expected this, as though all his worst fears were playing out before his eyes. The way he’d stared after him, reaching for him even as the door closed between them, fighting the sentry to the very last….

Lance never wanted to see him look like that, ever again. 

Although at this point, really, he’d settle for seeing him again, at all. Was anyone actually coming for him? Were they just going to leave him here, strapped to this fucking chair, forever?

Lance wriggled uncomfortably, trying to relieve the growing stiffness in his joints. Maybe he could get loose enough to break out. Maybe he could grab one of those freaky metal implements off the wall and charge out into the hallway, find where Keith was, get the hell off this ship. 

The metal cuffs didn’t budge.

Lance flopped back and sighed. Well, he’d just have to be ready, in case an opportunity presented itself. It was always good to have a plan, right?

He was amusing himself by fleshing out this rescue fantasy in painstaking detail when the door slid open. Lance tensed up again as a masked Galra strode briskly in, wearing some sort of cross between robes and scrubs. They crossed the room to a touchpad, and he turned his head, trying to keep an eye on what they were doing.

“Took you long enough,” he jabbed, trying to sound blithe and unconcerned. “Service around here seems pretty slow.”

The Galra didn’t reply. They moved behind the chair and out of Lance’s field of vision, but he could hear a rattling clink as a drawer opened.

“Not feeling chatty, hey? Long day on call, torturing prisoners and whatnot? I know how it is.” He rolled his shoulders, tugging at the restraints again.

The Galra appeared in front of him again. They were holding what looked like a nightmarish tattoo gun, all glowing parts and vials of fluid and several horrifically huge needles. 

Lance swallowed, feeling bile rise in his throat. That thing looked like it could punch through his entire arm. “Nah, I’m good, dude, I got my shots already, I- ow!”

The Galra medtech pressed the contraption into his thigh, and he felt the needles pinch painfully in several places. His leg felt hot, then cold, and he saw his own blood rising up into the gun, separating into several of the clear vials. He felt a bone-deep pain shoot through his entire leg, and twisted, his gut reaction screaming to get away. The restraints held him in place, and the pain throbbed into a burning that multiplied and stretched, twisting like a live thing.

The pain lasted for what felt like forever, before the medtech removed the gun. They lifted it, and several small vials whirred out of sight, replaced by new ones. Lance’s eyes widened.

“Oh- no, shit, don’t-”

The medtech placed the gun on his upper torso, just below his collarbone. They repeated the whole process on his chest and then his arm, as Lance flinched and tried to pull away, burning with the pull of the needles.

Finally, the medtech stepped away, slotting the needle gun into the wall on Lance’s left. The wall began to disassemble it, sorting vials and needles as the display began to run letters and numbers at an incomprehensible speed.

Lance was still trying to calm his racing heart when the medtech left. He shut his eyes, letting out a long breath, and the door slid open again with another soft whoosh.

It was two more sentries. They unstrapped him none too gently, and began frogmarching him back down the endless hallways. Lance stumbled between them, suspended by his arms, legs still aching from whatever the needle had done to him.

They turned another corner, and Lance vaguely recognized the area. They were taking him back to the cell- but- where had they taken Keith? Had he gotten the same treatment? Worse? And- if Lance was put back in the cell, there was nothing he’d be able to do about it.

He yanked suddenly with his right arm, trying to pull away from the robot tugging him along. He got free for a second and started to kick at the second sentry, but the first robot swung its gun around, smashing it into the side of his head.

Lance saw stars. 

He was knocked backwards, and as he fell, his arm was wrenched forward, still firmly in the grip of the other robot. It began to drag him forward down the hall to the cell, and Lance watched the ceiling panels pass by in a blur- purple, grey, purple, grey. 

He tried to blink, to clear his vision- keith- he had to escape-

He heard the swish of a door opening, and then he was tossed bodily into the cell, hitting something warm and giving on the way down. He landed in a heap of limbs on top of a very disgruntled Keith, and felt relief tumble through him like hot nunvil.

Keith was warm and here and breathing, he was okay, he hadn’t been carted off somewhere and experimented on. He was whole and moving and pushing Lance sideways and oh- yep, Lance still definitely didn’t have his balance back, because suddenly he was on his back, blinking up at the other paladin. 

Keith had propped himself up on his elbows, leaning partially over him, one leg thrown carelessly between Lance’s. He was staring down at him with an expression he’d never seen before- relief and joy and a strange softness, an expression made even odder by the blue and purple bruising around his right eye. It made his eyes shine unevenly, soft and strange and almost violet in this light, the eyes Lance had spent months trying to hate, closer now than they had any right to be, slightly blurry, and flicking uncertainly between his own.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, and Lance must have hit his head harder than he’d thought because suddenly Keith was kissing him, mouth pressing warmly over his own. He tasted a little like blood, salty and shocking, and the kiss stung at first, pulling at the fresh bruises on his face, but he moved with a hot impatience that was all Keith. Lance’s eyes widened, instinctively gripping at Keith’s shirt, but after a moment of flailing he pushed his mouth up into the other boy’s, and kissed him for all he was worth.

Was this really happening?

Lance reached up, and wound his fingers through the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck. He pulled him down, deepening the kiss, and closed his eyes. The world felt a little less spinny all of a sudden, and everything clicked into place, and yes, _Lance was kissing Keith_. 

Keith pulled away slightly. Lance could feel his breath ghosting over his lips, but he kept his eyes closed as Keith tipped their foreheads together. He wasn’t sure he _could_ open them, honestly- the world was so much more stable if he kept them closed and just focused on the feeling of Keith radiating warmth above him.

“You’re okay,” Keith repeated, and his voice was full of wonder, ragged and soft- and then there were lips on his again.

It was clear that Keith hadn’t done much kissing- his teeth clacked awkwardly against Lance’s, and he pushed a little harder than Lance usually liked, but he more than made up for it with enthusiasm, kissing with a sense of sheer need that struck Lance low in the gut. Lance tipped his chin up, slotting their mouths together at a better angle, and let his hands wander down Keith’s back, fingertips trailing over the thick fabric of his flight suit. Keith made a needy little noise in his throat- _god_ , that was hot- and ground his hips down onto Lance’s thigh.

Lance pulled back, and their lips separated with a wet _pop_. He opened his eyes, feeling his face get hot, and, wow, Keith was, he was close, uhh-

He laughed nervously. 

“Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it, we’re in a prison, we almost died, we-”

“I don’t care,” growled Keith. His grip tightened on Lance’s side. “I’ve been waiting so _long_ for this, I do. Not. Care.” He leaned down to kiss him again, and Lance strained up, meeting him warmly. He felt the sides of his lips tug up, and Keith pulled back to kiss the corners of his smile, which only made him smile harder.

What a dork.

Lance fisted a hand in Keith’s shirt, holding him up and away for a second. Keith was flushed pink, hair wild and lips glossy wet, staring down at him with eyes slightly wild. Lance grinned.

“Okay,” he said, panting, and let go of the black material. “You’ve convinced me.” 

Keith buried his face in his shoulder and huffed a laugh. Lance felt Keith’s torso vibrate with it, felt the motion of his whole body pressed against him. He lifted a hand to bury his fingers deeper into Keith’s hair, twining the strands between his fingers, and let himself smile.

“What?”

Keith shook his head a little, nuzzling into the spot where Lance’s neck met his shoulder.

“I just can’t believe you can still make me laugh,” he said, “even when we’re making out. Even when we’re in a goddamn _prison_.”

Lance could hear the smile in his voice, and shivered at the feeling of hot breath on his collarbone. He traced idle circles on the back of Keith’s shoulder with his left hand, and felt the muscles twitch involuntarily.

“Gotta keep up my role as the team goofball. You know how it is.” Idly, he contemplated whether it was possible to make finger guns at someone who was lying on your chest. Probably not. Ah well. He went for the next best thing, and lets his hands meander further down the other boy’s back.

Keith pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, and Lance’s hands tightened on his hips. He worked his way up the tendons on his neck, nipping his ear, and kissed down his jawline until he found his mouth again. 

Lance sighed into the kiss, and felt Keith soften. His fingers worked their way into Lance’s hair, and he let his weight fall more onto Lance’s chest, kissing him softly, pressing into him with a need that echoed Lance’s own.

After a while, Keith broke away, resting his forehead on Lance’s once more. 

“You okay there, sharpshooter?”

Lance laughed. “Still a little dizzy.” He blinked up at Keith. His pale skin was tinted violet in the dim light of the cell. “Nowhere I’d rather be, though.” He attempted a wink. Keith snorted.

“Yeah, ok. You must’ve hit your head.” He rolled off Lance, sitting up. Lance pouted. 

“Come back,” he whined, pawing melodramatically at the air. 

“You need to rest.”

“I will! But only if you do too. C’mere.” Lance opened his arms. Keith hesitated.

“Please?”

“Fine,” Keith mumbled. He crawled over and curled himself up against Lance’s side. Lance wrapped his arms around the other boy, resting his face in his hair, breathing in his scent like comfort.

“We’ll be okay,” Lance murmured. “Red is coming for us.”

Keith made a small noise of assent, burrowing deeper into his shoulder. 

It was surprisingly comfortable, lying like this, thought Lance drowsily. He was warmer than he would’ve expected, warmer than he’d been before. Keith was like a furnace.

_Must be a Galra thing._

As Lance dropped off, he felt Keith tighten his arms around him, almost imperceptibly, murmuring in his sleep. He felt… strangely at home. Not because of the prison cell, obviously, but… he was comfortable. With Keith curled around him like this, he felt...safe. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t lying awake, wondering what was going on at home, worrying about tomorrow’s battle, about the challenges ahead. He was in a fucking _prison cell_ , but in a strange way, it didn’t matter. That was something for Future Lance to deal with. Right now… he was happy to just be.

_I could get used to this._

 

 

That first night wasn’t so bad. The Galra left them alone for a bit, and for what felt like a few days after that. Every now and then, a panel on the wall would fold out, revealing small bowls of goo; but they never saw anyone. No Galra general, no druids, no Paladins coming to the rescue. They meditated together for long, uncountable stretches of time, using all their combined mental calling to try to find Red, hoping that somewhere out in the vast reaches of space, she’d hear them and come.

She never did. 

The only other creatures they saw were the robot sentries, when they came to take Lance. It was never Keith; for some reason, they took Lance, every time, back to the same room, the same creepy dentist chair. Usually, they took blood samples. Sometimes, on creative days, it was other tissues, skin or hair or cells from inside his cheek.

Lance usually spent his enforced time away from the cell harassing the lackey who came to take the sample. He couldn’t tell if it was the same Galra every time- they stayed masked and covered in their medical robes- but they were always silent, never answering his questions or his barbs. The tests were always the same, and always painful.

Time passed slowly.

Lance and Keith got used to doing everything in the purple near-dark of the cell. They filled the time with stretching, and sparring, watching for any opportunity to escape. Keith worked on Lance’s hand-to-hand (Lance didn’t have the same night vision that Keith’s Galra ancestry gave him, but practicing in the dark was helping his technique by leaps and bounds). Lance taught him all the yoga poses he could remember, knocking him over now and then just because he could. They argued with a heat that hid the softness underneath.

When they got tired, they curled up together like two children seeking comfort, and told each other stories.

Lance told Keith about his family; about his cousins and siblings, his rambunctious nieces and nephews and the huge family gatherings they used to have. He told him about Varadero Beach at night, the stars reflecting on the water, about his sister teaching him the shapes of the constellations. He told him about his misadventures with Hunk at the Garrison, about sneaking out after dark, smuggling in food and two-fours of vodka, about Pidge talking back to teachers and Hunk throwing up in toolbins.

Keith, in his turn, told Lance about his time in the desert: about the long, hot days chasing signals on his bike, the frustration and the breakthroughs, the long nights of research. He talked about getting stuck in a box canyon with barely enough water for a day, knowing that if he couldn’t climb out, there was no one coming to look for him. He talked about watching snakes in the sun, about the perfect dark blue of the desert sky, about a gecko that had moved into his shack and stayed for an entire week.

Sometimes, when he was talking, it was as though Lance wasn’t even there; Keith would glaze over and start to ramble, would close his eyes and rest his head on Lance’s chest and seem to be talking half to himself. Sometimes he’d fall asleep mid-conversation, muttering responses to questions Lance hadn’t asked, or lapsing sleepily into a language Lance didn’t recognize.

He didn’t talk about his family, and Lance didn’t push. 

Sometimes their hands would wander, there in the dim purple light, and Keith would spin in his grip to sigh into his neck and push helplessly against him, and Lance would kiss him hungrily, needily. There was an air of desperation to it, sometimes, especially if Lance had just been thrown unceremoniously back into their cell. Every time felt like a last chance, like a reprieve, like comfort and home and rescue all in one- but they could never go too far. Both of them were too aware of the unpredictability of the Galra, as well as the general fucked-upedness of their whole predicament. So instead they held each other through the interminable purple twilight, and trained, and talked, and waited.

Lance wondered sometimes what would happen when they went back to the ship. Would Keith still want him- want this? Would they still be able to talk so easily, so freely? Or would they go back to camaraderie, to being teammates who held one another at a careful distance? What if this was only a coping mechanism, a distraction for both of them from the knife edge they were balancing on? Some days, the days he wasn’t dragged away to be prodded at with needles, he could almost forget they were imprisoned. Some days he was almost glad for the chance to be here and alive and with Keith, selfishly happy to just be near him, to see him with his walls down. 

On the bad days, though… on the days when he got dragged away, got beaten, the days when no goo appeared in the slot. Those days, Keith had to coax Lance into even standing up, sometimes, into even talking, as he curled around his body, shaking with the leftover burn in his bones. Those were the days when he started to wish that the Galra would just get it over with, just let him die, stop picking him apart and just kill him already. Those were the days when he doubted.

What if they were _never_ rescued?

 

 

They were sparring when the door opened again.

Lance blinked, caught off guard, as a wedge of brighter light from the hall cracked the darkness of the cell, outlining Keith in violet silhouette. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, follwing a step behind as Keith launched himself at the door.

As usual, the robot knocked him aside with its gun, pinning him to the floor, and two more marched in to grab hold of Lance.

Keith watched from the floor, dark eyes betraying the anxiety he still felt every time this happened.

“I’ll be back soon,” Lance promised, fighting to keep his voice even. “You won’t even know I’m gone.” He blew him a sassy kiss as best he could with his hands pinned to his sides, fighting to keep his voice level, his face even. His smile felt strained, cracking across his face as they tugged him out.

The cell slid shut behind him. 

They took him to the same room, as usual, and strapped him in the chair. As the robots left, Lance caught himself yawning, and smiled grimly to himself. How weird had his life become, that he was strapped into a nightmare torture chair in an alien spaceship, and he was bored?

To be fair, he reasoned, it was late. He and Keith had something of a sleep schedule set up, and by that reckoning it was late evening, almost time for bed. They’d just been sparring for ages, and, well… he’d done this kind of a lot. There was only so much psychological torture a guy could take, and being strapped down got old pretty fast.

Was it any wonder that he nodded off?

 

Lance woke to the sound of tinkling glass. He blinked twice, and the familiar Galra operating room came into focus.

The sound was coming from behind him. He cleared his throat.

“So, we doing something new today, or do I get the normal spa an’ acupuncture treatment?”

He heard steps, and the Galra rounded the chair. Only- it wasn’t the usual masked and robed medtech. It was a taller Galra, with long, white hair, pointed ears, and distinctive blue armour. He looked…. almost Altean?

Lance’s stomach sank. “Oh shit,” he whispered to himself. There was no way this was good. No way.

The unfamiliar Galra cocked his head at Lance. “What is ‘acupuncture’?” he asked clinically. His voice was deep and aristocratic, vowels rolling clipped off his tongue. “Some form of…. Medicine? Of torture? I have no experience with your particular species’ cultural jargon. What planet do you hail from?”

Lance remained silent, staring warily at the tall Galra. Hadn’t Coran mentioned…? Wasn’t Prince Lotor half Altean? And if he was…. Those ears...

If he was right, Lance was deeply, deeply fucked.

He stayed silent.

Lotor shrugged. “All right. Straight to business then. I see the reports of the Red Paladin as the most sullen of the bunch seem to be well-founded.”

Lance stayed silent, not wanting to give Lotor anything; nothing of himself, nothing of Keith. He was the heir to the Empire, the right hand of Zarkon. He didn’t deserve to know either red paladin.

Lotor turned, and Lance heard the clinking of jars again, saw a brief flash of light.

“Your tests have done exceptionally well,” Lotor said conversationally. “Just exactly the results I was expecting. So we’re going to make it a little more… personal this time.” He lifted the familiar needle gun, but this time, the vials were loaded with a serum that pulsed faintly green.

Lance’s eyes widened; he couldn’t help it.

“Ah. So we aren’t the stoic one after all.”

“Fuck you,” Lance said. “Your weird Flubber shit doesn’t scare me. You’re just a power-hungry psychopath with a Christmas chemistry set.”

Lotor raised a brow. “Colloquialisms are so interesting sometimes,” he said, and injected the needle into Lance’s thigh.

The needlegun buzzed, humming unpleasantly against Lance’s now-wrecked flight suit. The needle hurt, as usual, but Lance didn’t feel anything different as the greenish fluid was squeezed into his bloodstream. 

Lotor removed the needle, setting it on a tray floating at elbow height. He regarded Lance closely, head cocked to the side like a bird of prey.

Nothing happened.

“Do I get spider powers from this?” Lance asked, trying to sound flippant. “Cause, like, radioactive shit is always this colour and AAUGHHHH!” He cut himself off as the pain exploded through his entire body and he jackknifed, twisting violently.

The pain cut off abruptly, and he sank back, gasping.

“Interesting,” said Lotor. “Not the result I was expecting, but interesting. I’ll have to try another-”

Lance screamed as he was hit by a fresh wave of pain, this one flashing even faster, burning brighter through his system. His body arched off the chair, held in place by its restraints, and fell back again.

“Must have lost its potency somewhere in translation,” Lotor was muttering. He picked up a vial of serum from the tray, and pocketed it. As Lance watched, Lotor’s head appeared to explode into hundreds of purple butterflies, and worms began to crawl out of each vial. “Useful, perhaps, but not what I… hmmm…”

The room began to shrink, then expanded until it was as far away as a galaxy. Lance screamed again as Galra fighters began to fly towards him, shrinking and growing, shooting ropes that wrapped around his limbs and held him in place.

“Useless to me,” echoed Lotor’s voice from far away. “Take him back until it’s cleared his system, and we can try again.”

He felt another sharp pain, and a fresh bloom of burning in his arm, and then he was moving.

He was being dragged down a corridor, purple, red, gray blurring and streaking around him. He couldn’t seem to focus, or to see properly. The hands on his arms were large and rough, twisting his shoulders in the wrong direction. Galra loomed above him, faceless soldiers, their eyes no more than dark slits in their helmets. One of the hands yanked at his shoulder, and a line of fire burned down his side. He tried to scream, but there was no sound.

“Something is coming,” said Pidge’s voice in his ear, and he turned his head, looking for the source of the whisper.

There were creatures in his head, they wanted to hurt him, they were eating him slowly from the inside, he couldn’t stand it anymore-

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Hunk said, and Lance craned his neck again- Hunk? Where-

Abruptly the sentries let go of him, tossing him to the hard ground. A door clanged, the sound echoing in a strange, metallic way. He lay still. It felt like he was bleeding- his forehead felt sticky, but he was so tired, so tired, and it seemed impossible to lift his face from the cool floor. 

Suddenly he felt hands on him again, and he twitched compulsively. The hands weren’t rough this time, though; they were careful and light, patting him down, checking him for injuries. 

Keith rolled him gently, and an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him up off the floor and into his lap. He smoothed back his hair from his face, unsticking it from dried blood, and curled around him protectively. 

He opened his eyes. 

Keith’s face wavered down at him, soft and concerned, with worry creasing his eyes. Lance blinked, and Keith’s hands stilled on his face. 

“You’re back,” he said, and the relief was palpable in his voice. “You’re okay.”

He shuddered, and felt Keith’s hands running soothingly down his back. 

“It’s going to be okay,” said Keith, “you’re okay, it’s just me, you’re back now, you’re okay.” 

Lance curled into his lap, feeling tears running down his face, beyond caring. He clutched Keith’s thigh, closing his eyes and letting himself shudder with sobs. The pain wrenched through him, but Keith didn’t let go, and didn’t let go, and didn’t let go; and after a while just curled himself around Lance on the floor, carding his fingers through his hair, whispering about the stars and the waves and the beach, and they curled shaking together and made it through another night.

 

 

Another day strapped down. Another vial filled with fluid.

Lance eyed the needle with distaste. 

“Really?” asked Lotor. “No quip? No clever line this time?”

Lance shook his head. “Nah. I’m just starting to get really, really tired of needles.”

Lotor shrugged. “That’s unfortunate.” He flicked a switch, and the needlegun lit up with a faint indigo glow. “You’ve responded better than any of my other test subjects. We’re about to open a whole new realm of possibilities, here. You should be excited.” He brought the gun to Lance’s thigh.

Lance tensed, anticipating its bite- but suddenly the door slid open with a soft shush, and a Galra soldier rushed into the room. She didn’t look like any Lance had seen before; she had a bulky frame, huge, batlike ears, and pink markings down her face.

“Prince Lotor!” The soldier pulled up next to Lance and saluted smartly, ignoring him strapped down in the chair.

“Zethrid, what have I told you about disturbing me while I’m working?”

She rolled her eyes. “Working, okay.” She glanced down at Lance, and back up to Lotor. “Is this the part-Galra one?”

Lotor shook his head. “We already have as much data as we need on...half-breeds.” His mouth twisted sideways, almost as if he’d make a joke. Lance didn’t get it. “We already know that Galra blood always breeds true, so the immunity will as well. Besides, I’m interested in human….compatibility. All the tests ran as I expected. The plan has a better chance with this one.”

Immunity? Plan? Lance laid quietly, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. Maybe… if they’d just let something slip...

“Well, the science experiment might have to wait. We’ve just received word from Dromon.” She glanced down at Lance. “There’s some trouble with the...project. Axca needs you there personally.”

 _Dromon._ One of the other base planets, maybe? A secret project? He held absolutely still.

Lotor looked at the needle gun in his hand, and to Lance’s relief, laid it gently on a floating tray. “Pity. That means there’s no time to try this new hybrid out.” He sighed a little, then turned and crossed to the other side of the room, out of Lance’s view, but his voice was still crystal-clear. “I suppose the more… traditional ways will have to do. Zethrid?”

She snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”

“Set course for Dromon, to begin navigation in three vargas. Then cut the interference signal. It’s time.”

Zethrid left the room, and Lance craned his neck, trying to see what Lotor was doing. It’s time? He really, really didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t have high hopes for what it meant for him and Keith.

Lotor crossed back into Lance’s field of vision, hands wrapped around something Lance couldn’t see.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he said. “There’s something poetic about this, I think.” He opened his gloved hands, and Lance could see something inside, small and indistinct and glowing with a faint green shine. “The natives of its home planet call it the yestiye. They kill it wherever they find it and they build shrines to keep it away from their homes.”

Lance pushed back in his chair, trying to lean away as subtly as he could while still strapped down. “Cool…...coolcoolcool, um, thanks for the lesson in… aliens? I guess?”

Lotor smirked. “Don’t play the fool with me. I know you were hoping Zethrid would let something slip.” He leaned over Lance, gripping his chin with long, cold fingers and tilting his face up towards him. 

Lance tried to jerk away, but his grip was too strong, fingers digging into his cheeks and forcing his mouth open. 

“She isn’t the most subtle of my generals,’ Lotor continued, “But… no matter. It won’t make a difference now, anyway.” 

“No- no-” Lance choked out, but Lotor brought his other hand up faster than Lance could even see. He thrashed, pulling against the cuffs, but Lotor held onto his face. He pushed the glowing thing into Lance’s mouth, and shoved it shut, covering his mouth with a gloved hand.

Lance choked. He felt a burning warmth slither down his throat, cutting off his air. He struggled to breathe, and felt his lungs burn- was that from lack of oxygen? Or- no, they were getting hotter, hotter, as though someone was stirring embers in his chest cavity. Lance jerked. His body bucked off the chair, convulsing, and Lotor let go.

Lance sucked in air, gasping for breath. The burning sensation didn’t go away, though- it intensified, spreading from his lungs- and, oh god, he could feel it moving slowly out from his chest, creeping into his limbs, his gut, up his neck-

He convulsed again, feeling the burning, prickling heat flicker across his skull. His vision dimmed and reddened, and Lotor began to waver in and out of focus.

What had he _done?_

Lotor shook out his hand. “That was….rather crude, I’ll admit.” He eyed Lance clinically. “Although it seems to have done the trick.” He lifted his wrist to his mouth, still watching Lance. “Zethrid, you should be clear to lift the interference signal now. I’ll be returning to the bridge momentarily.”

Lotor swept out, but Lance was too busy choking on his own throat to notice.

 

 

Everything after that point was something of a blur.

Everything felt like a distant memory; reddish, far away, something he might have dreamed of doing once. Sometimes, it felt as though Lance was outside his body, watching; he would twitch a limb, move his legs, ramble through entire sentences without any conscious intent on his part. Sometimes it just felt as though his entire body was on fire, like his head was expanding out of his skull, like he was being turned inside out. 

In between the pain and the fire and the thrashing, there were moments of clarity.

He remembered alarms going off; remembered it clearly because it was still early on. The whooping alarms and the flashing red lights had almost made him laugh: everything outside his head felt exactly like the inside of his head.

He wasn’t particularly coherent at that point. It hadn’t gotten any better.

He remembered the door being blasted open, remembered watching Pidge tumble into the room, remembered their face as they stumbled to a stop, and turned quickly.

“GUYS!” they yelled, “he’s in here, I found him!”

They began methodically smashing his restraints with their bayard, tugging Lance to a sitting position. He slumped over their shoulders. 

“No…” he’d said, “no, the plan… the plan… danger…” They had to leave him. Lotor had done something, he’d done something terrible… Lance was something terrible….

“It’s okay,” Pidge said, “we’ve got a plan, we’re getting you out. I got you.”

“Good,” said Lance’s mouth, “take me home.” Lance screamed on the inside, felt red wash over his vision, felt his legs move on their own.

He remembered Keith skidding into the room, face like a thundercloud, remembered the red clearing as he gripped the shoulders on Keith’s armour; remembered being carried carefully between the two of them out and away and away and away, legs twitching, body still shuddering.

He remembered a long, purple hallway; remembered a moment of clarity, throwing himself desperately at a robot that was shooting at them. He couldn’t go home, couldn’t take whatever this was onto the castle, couldn’t endanger the team- 

He remembered pain flaring in his leg, his side- remembered a flash of white and red ahead, around him, remembered being scooped up and carried away- red, white, purple, and pain, flashes of pain-

He remembered being curled against Keith in the back of the Green Lion- clutching at his sides, trying to control his body.

“Keith-” he croaked, “the plan- I know the plan- get away- you have to get- unnhh-”

His body shook again, and he curled in on himself, trying not to thrash, trying to stay in control.

“It’s okay,” said Keith. His face was anguished, and his hands roamed over Lance’s body, over the makeshift bandages, as though he could keep him safe if only he made sure he was still there. “We’re almost back, we’ll get you in the-”

“No,” he hissed, “Just… _fuck_ , listen, Keith, I- I’m….” But he trailed off, throat closing. It was as if every time he tried to tell Keith what Lotor had done, about the strange alien creature, something stopped him. His mind skipped desperately, fuzzing around the edges. “The plan,” he tried again, “the base, the...nnngh-”

Keith’s eyes widened. “You know about the bases?”

Lance shut his eyes again as his vision went red, and Keith pulled him tighter. 

“Stay awake, Lance. We’re almost there, we’re almost home. We’re gonna get you in a healing pod...” 

But Lance was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW WOW HI HELLO. It's been a ride writing this chapter, and I appreciate all of you so much for sticking with me <3 Thank you in particular to everyone who's been commenting. Some authors don't like being asked for updates, but tbh, it was nice to have the reminder that someone was still out there waiting for this <3 <3\. I'm sorry this update took so long. All of you have been incredibly patient and understanding and basically, I appreciate it so so so much and I'm so glad you're still with me.
> 
> Also, I know this title of this chapter is a bit weird- the whole flashback was originally supposed to be one chapter, so think of it as a two-parter, I guess. Everything will hopefully be wrapped up in in next chapter!
> 
> Also also, I know you're all here for these stupid gay boys, but my beautiful and very talented babe Zagluna has written  
> [this incredible Shayllura fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13450122/chapters/30828828) featuring some adorably flustered lesbians. If you need more good content while you're waiting for updates, please go and give her some love, her work is wonderful and so cute!!! (AND she has a regular update schedule, which is downright miraculous)
> 
> ANYWAY thank you all so much! Stay tuned for the next installment. 
> 
> PS. if anyone knows the american equivalent of a two-four, please let me know. Olivia says my Ontario is showing too much ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Olivia: “Wow, this fight scene is like… really gay…”
> 
> Our other roommate who has never watched Voltron: “JUST LET THEM KISS ALREADY”


	9. Stars With People Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance felt himself sway, vision still swimming. Bile rose in his throat, and then he was sinking to the ground, the hands tightening around him, guiding him gently down until he was propped against the cold glass front of the pod. He felt Red give him a mental nudge, and inside his head he leaned on her gratefully.
> 
> The team was hovering over him, expressions ranging from concern to relief. 
> 
> There was one person missing.

Lance fell back into his own body with a jolt, the cold slamming into him. He felt a tingling sensation rush into his numb extremities, fingertips crackling with the sudden cold. His eyes shot open in time to see the glass of the pod split open with a hiss and slide back, smoke rushing out around him. He shoved himself forward, feeling the restraints crack apart and give way. 

 

He clawed his way out of the pod, staring at the ground, at his hands, reveling in the peculiar feeling of his own pulse. The recycled air of the Castle washed over him in a blaze of warmth, and he sucked it in gratefully, stumbling over the lip of the pod. 

 

Suddenly, there were hands catching him. Lance instinctively leaned into the touch, feeling something unknot in him... and then stiffen again, as he realized they weren’t the hands he was expecting. They were small hands that gripped him around the waist, a metal support steadying his shoulder, cool Altean hands with pink markings. 

 

Lance felt himself sway, vision still swimming. Bile rose in his throat, and then he was sinking to the ground, the hands tightening around him, guiding him gently down until he was propped against the cold glass front of the pod. He felt Red give him a mental nudge, and inside his head he leaned on her gratefully.

 

His vision blurred and spun, focusing in on three pairs of legs clustered around him, and a fourth wrapped and splinted and propped up in a wheelchair. 

 

He blinked and looked up. 

 

The team was hovering over him, expressions ranging from concern to relief. Pidge was nearest him, looking tense, while Allura and Shiro hung back. Hunk was strapped into a sleek Altean wheelchair that faintly resembled a reclining bicycle, and Coran was looking positively gleeful.

 

There was one person missing.

 

Lance, still reeling, focused in on the one thing he could understand. “Hunk,” he said. “Buddy! You’re all right!”

 

Hunk grinned. “Yeah, my dude.” He gestured at the Altean wheelchair. “Look what Coran found me!” He reached out a fist, and Lance bumped it weakly, grinning. The effort unbalanced him, though, and he would’ve fallen over, if Pidge hadn’t grabbed his shoulder.

 

“Sorry,” Pidge said, “we didn’t know the defrost would hit you so hard.” They stepped back, rubbing the back of their neck.

 

“I told you we shouldn’t have tried to speed up its concluding processes,” Hunk scolded them. “He would’ve been fine in there for another twenty minutes!”

 

As they bickered, the frazzled pieces of Lance’s mind clicked back together. His brain spun, fitting together flashes of faces and disjointed memory: The cell, the chair, Lotor looming above him. Thrashing in Green. His mouth speaking on its own, being trapped inside his own body, the needles. Shiro’s face as he marched him down the dim Castle halls. Keith with a black eye, Keith pushing his hair back, Keith’s hand pulling away behind the glass.

 

“I don’t understand,” he blurted out.

 

“What,” said Hunk, “the pod? It’s a pretty simple concept, really, it’s accelerated cryo without the universal principles that…” He trailed off. Lance was shaking his head.

 

“No, not that. I mean…. I….” He looked helplessly up at them, memorizing their faces, hoping against hope that this wasn’t another dream. “Why am I still here? Why didn’t you shoot me into space, why didn’t….” He turned his hands over in front of his face, staring at them like they might give him answers. “How am I still...me?”

 

“Lance,” said Pidge, crouching down in front of him. “Why would we shoot you into space?”

 

He swallowed. “The yestiye. The eater. Didn’t it…. wasn’t it in me? Isn’t it putting you all in danger…?” He looked at his hands again, curled and uncurled the long brown fingers. They still looked like his. They still moved like his. 

 

He didn’t feel like he was being possessed by anything. He didn’t feel like there was a parasite in him anymore. He felt… normal. He felt like himself, and he definitely didn’t want to be ejected into space, but…. 

 

What if it was another trick? What if it was just dormant or hiding or, or what if it had already infected the rest of the team? He’d forgotten being infected with the parasite- what if he had brought it here, not realizing he had it, and infected them all? What if he’d doomed Voltron?

 

“Lance,” said a voice, and he looked up. Hunk was watching him carefully. He was making the gesture they’d used as private code at the Garrison.  _ Calm down, _ it meant, y _ ou’re panicking.  _ Hunk mimed taking a deep breath.

 

He sucked in a long breath, and another, trying to slow his heart rate. 

 

“Our suspicions must have been mistaken,” said Allura. She looked guilty, he realized with a shock. “The scans showed no sign of non-human tissue, quintessence or impulses in your body. Your quintessence is entirely human. Entirely your own. There’s simply nothing else there.” She glanced at Shiro, then back to Lance. “We really should apologize for putting you through… all that. It seemed necessary at the time, but it’s possible we were all a little harsh.”

 

Shiro’s expression was stony. There was a weird tension in the air, as though they were returning to an argument they’d already been having, Pidge was giving Shiro a sideways look, eyes narrowed, and seemed about to say something, but Coran stepped in, clapping his hands. 

 

“Yes, well. We all make mistakes, I’m sure. And it would seem Lotor never tried to infect you with any parasite after all! So it’s good news all around!” 

 

The odd tension between Shiro and the others eased off, but Lance furrowed his brow, memories still piecing themselves together.

 

_ the more traditional ways will have to do…  _

 

“No.” He shook his head, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “No, that’s not right. He did.” 

 

“What?” Shiro frowned. 

 

Lance felt his stomach drop. He couldn’t look at them- his team, his family- he didn’t want to see their faces when he told them.

 

“Lotor did infect me with the yestiye. He fed it to me… fed me to it?” Lance looked up, locking eyes with Pidge, and felt a phantom choking sensation, remembered the way the burning crawled up his throat. “I was definitely infected when you pulled me off the base.”

 

There was a beat. Then everyone was talking all at once. 

 

“You remember?” Allura was wide-eyed. “Then do you remember-”

 

Shiro was activating his arm. “Allura, get back.”

 

Pidge straightened quickly, pulling back from Lance. Even with their short stature, they towered over Lance where he sat on the floor. “That doesn’t make sense,” they said, shaking their head. “The pod readings can’t be falsified.”

 

The tension had returned to the room, thicker now. Lance could feel all eyes on him, could practically feel the distrust, the worry. Shiro was radiating vigilance, the same soldier’s readiness he carried when they infiltrated enemy planets. Hunk just looked lost.

 

Lance stared down at the floor, lifting his shoulders defensively. “I don’t understand,” he said again. “I remember… I remember being gone. I remember being imprisoned, being hurt, coming back in Green. But for most of that, I wasn’t, you know… in control.”

 

Hunk was wide-eyed. “So on the ship, when you threw yourself at those sentries without your armor, that was- oh shit, Lance. You were…”

 

Lance avoided his gaze, staring at the floor.

 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk wheel himself closer. A second later, he felt his hand press comfortingly on his shoulder. 

 

Lance smiled weakly, and lifted a hand to cover Hunk’s with his own.

 

“But the last few days?” Pidge said. “You didn’t remember anything- but you weren’t possessed or whatever. You just seemed like yourself.”

 

Lance shook his head. “I know. That’s what I don’t get.” He looked at Shiro. “You said… you said there’s no cure, but that… it doesn’t make sense, then. Even if I didn’t remember, I would’ve still been....infected.” He swallowed. “There’s no way I could be… not me? I’d know, right?” He meant the words to come out confident, but instead they just came out pleading.

 

“You’d know.” Shiro’s face was closed off, unreadable, missing his usual encouraging tone. He held Lance’s gaze for a little while longer, then looked away. 

 

“Hey, maybe we can test for it?” Hunk squeezed Lance’s shoulder. “You know, ask something only the real Lance would know. Hey, Lance, what did we do to Iverson’s office that one time after he blamed us for that kitchen catastrophe?”

 

Lance smiled thinly, real laughter rising to the surface under his anxiety. “Filled everything we could find with glitter. Man, he was so mad, he-”

 

“Yeah, but no,” interjected Pidge. “The parasite would know everything Lance knows, it would have access to his brain. But we don’t need to test him, there’s  _ no parasite. _ That’s the point.” They pointed at the screen next to the pod. “The data doesn’t lie!”

 

“So how did he get cured then?” Coran asked, looking from Hunk to Pidge to Allura. “If he was infected, how is it we’re all still standing here, quintessence and all?”

 

“Yeah,” said Lance. “That’s what I’m saying. It doesn’t make sense. The only thing that changed was that I got my memory wiped.”

 

Hunk clapped his hands, face lighting up. “That’s it!” he said, and his excited gesture almost knocked Lance over again. 

 

“What’s it?”

 

Pidge snapped their fingers. “The full factory reset! Hunk, you genius!”

 

“And if the Castle hadn’t-”

 

“Exactly! He would’ve-”

 

“And, the pods, the energy surge! We had it all wrong!”

 

Shiro looked quizzically between the two of them. “Will someone explain, please?”

 

“The memory wipe!” Hunk enthused, wheeling to face all of them. “We all thought it was a glitch, right? But what if it wasn’t? What if the system detected the alien parasite, and did the only thing it could to get rid of it? That’s why it had to do the full factory reset, and wipe Lance back to the last time he got healed!”

 

“We thought the system malfunctioned because of the energy surge,” Pidge added, “but what if the energy surge was because of the pods themselves? They’re not supposed to make changes that big all at once, so they had to draw more energy, and it unbalanced the system! That’s why we’ve had no luck repairing them- we’ve been looking at the problem all wrong!”

 

“Hmm,” said Coran. “And that would explain why Lance was still injured when he came out. The pod was able to restore his mental faculties and nervous system, eliminating the alien along with his memories, but the surge damaged it too much to complete the fine muscular repairs.”

 

Allura tapped her fingers on her arm. “I’ll take your word for it, Coran. Still, there’s one thing I don’t understand. Lance, how did you get your memories back? When?” 

 

Lance took a shaky breath. His system was still overwhelmed with relief, hope, adrenaline; a churning mix of feelings that he was still trying to sort through. 

 

“It was Red,” he said. “I’ve been shutting her out this whole time, but… when I was in the pod, she helped me. She’s had my memories this whole time.” He let out a long exhale. 

 

“Unhealthy, to shut out a lion like that,” remarked Coran. “Never a good idea.”

 

“I didn’t know they could do that,” said Shiro. He looked at Allura. “Can they do that?”

 

“We still do not know the full extent of their capabilities.” Allura smiled. “They never cease to amaze me.” 

 

She glanced at the pod readout again, then turned back towards Lance, suddenly all business. Lance knew that look- it meant that everyone was about to have to move very quickly. He and Pidge privately called it the Shit’s About to Get Real face. The whole group straightened subtly to attention, even Lance and Hunk; they were suddenly a team of soldiers again instead of a worried and relieved family.

 

(A family, it suddenly occurred to Lance, that was still missing one important member.)

 

“Lance, I know this has all been very sudden, and you probably want to rest, but if you’ve remembered, we cannot afford to lose any more time. Do you know where Lotor’s other base is located?”

 

“Dromon,” Lance said instantly. “It’s on Dromon- there’s some kind of a project there, I don’t know what. One of his generals is there, and requested he return to it- Acxa, her name was. And the other one is Zethrid.”

 

Allura nodded curtly, already moving, but Lance was only half-listening. “Coran, get to the bridge and locate Dromon for us.” Coran saluted flamboyantly. 

 

“Pidge, now that we have names, we need as much information as possible on the planet and on Lotor’s generals. Hunk, are you able to…”

 

She trailed off as Lance stood up. He swayed faintly, but stayed on his feet, face still pale but determined. He knew Allura probably had a task for him too, but he felt Red purring somewhere deep in his chest. She knew, and he knew, that there was only one place he needed to be right now.

 

“I have to find Keith,” he said. There was a beat, as the team looked at him.

 

“Yes, I imagine someone ought to catch him up,” said Coran cheerfully, breaking the silence. Hunk and Pidge exchanged a glance.

 

“Lance,” Shiro started, “Is that-”

 

“I have. To find. Keith.” He pushed Shiro to the side, heading up the hallway, towards the main levels of the ship, and the older man let him, expression unreadable.

 

“You should rest!” Allura objected. 

 

“You should at least eat something,” Coran added. “Cryopods wreak havoc on the digestive system!”

 

Lance didn’t respond. He didn’t look back, but he could hear Allura’s voice, low and urgent, and Hunk replying softly.

 

He couldn’t make out the words, but no one followed him, or tried to drag him back. 

  
  
  
  
  


He checked the training deck first. 

 

There was no sign of Keith. The huge room was still and silent. None of the programs were activated; the floor was clear of gladiators or training bots, and the control room was dark.

 

There was no sign of Keith on the observation deck, either, or with Red, or in the pool or on the bridge. He even risked a peek into Black’s hangar, and felt warning vibrations rippling off the huge lion- not unfriendly, but not precisely welcoming either.

 

Well. He wasn’t there, anyway. Lance didn’t go inside.

 

Lance wandered back up through the Castle, empty hallways and galleries seeming to mock him. What, did he think he’d just magically be able to find him? That his instincts would just lead him to exactly the right place, that he’d stumble over him in this vast castle? Lance wasn’t the instinct guy. That was Keith’s whole shtick.

 

What if Keith just didn’t want to be found? 

 

And, really, what was Lance even doing looking so hard for him in the first place? Even if he did find him… what was he going to say?  _ Hey, remember that time we had to keep each other alive for like a month in prison, so we made out a lot to pass the time? Hey, remember when I forgot about the whole thing and treated you like I didn’t know you at all and now you probably hate me? Hey, remember how we both almost died? Fun times, right?  _

 

Maybe it hadn’t even happened. Maybe it was all a fever dream Lance had concocted. Maybe Keith had just needed someone to keep him sane, and Lance had just happened to be there and convenient and the only person stuck in prison with him- maybe he would’ve done the same thing if it had been Hunk or Shiro or even Pidge.

 

Maybe Keith would just rather they never talked about it. Maybe Lance should just carry on as if he hadn’t remembered anything out of the ordinary and they could go back to being friends, teammates, rivals.

 

_ No _ . He pushed the thought away, remembering the look on Keith’s face when he’d come through the door of the operating room, the way he’d held him in the Green Lion.

 

It couldn’t be just the prison. It couldn’t be just his imagination. Could it?

 

He had to know.

 

Lance sighed as his feet carried him into the dormitory wing. He knocked on Keith’s door, heart in his throat. 

 

Keith didn’t spend much time in his room- Lance knew that, he really only went there to sleep, and Keith barely slept- but maybe, just maybe…. 

 

He waited. He could practically feel his heart pounding, could hear his pulse thumping in his ears. He forced himself to relax, shoulders lowering. 

 

“Keith...?”

 

Silence. He knocked again, hesitantly, and let his palm flatten slowly on the cool metal of the door. This was exactly where he’d been a month ago; looking for Keith, waiting for him to answer the door, afraid that he’d answer the door. His mouth twisted wryly.

 

_ He’s not there _ , something whispered inside him.  _ He’s not there, or he doesn’t want to be found. Give up. He doesn’t want to see you. _

 

He rested his forehead on the door. 

 

Just try. 

 

Just one more try. 

 

He had to know.

 

He raised his hand to knock again, then hesitated, reaching inside his mind to surround himself with Red’s comforting warmth. She purred gently, and a smile tugged on the edges of his lips. Carefully, he opened his feelings to her. He was hoping she’d comfort him; hoping she’d approve and reassure him, knowing he loved Keith just as much as she did.

 

_ Wait, what? _

 

She roared inside him, and he jerked his fist back from the door, her emotional reaction strong enough to throw him physically off-balance. His chest blazed suddenly, his Lion’s emotions mingling with his, almost painful in its intensity.

 

Lance leaned against the door. Shit, had he really just thought that? Had he really just admitted that to Red? 

 

Did he  _ love Keith _ ?

 

He searched his feelings, trying to separate them from Red’s. It was impossible- they were too similar, melding together, tying him to her and both of them to…

 

Oh. 

 

Somewhere, on the other side of his connection to Red, he could feel the faint pulse of her connection to Keith; could feel him like a covered flame, like a lit window in the distance.

 

_ Seriously? _ he thought at Red.  _ Really? You’re really gonna lead me to Keith through the power of love or some shit? That is the most cliche thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. That is the worst. You’re the worst. I can’t believe this. _

 

He could feel her smugness radiating through to him. 

 

Lance rolled his eyes, tamping down on their connection until it was at normal levels again, but he could still feel her amusement and her mental nudging, pushing him down the hall. He could find his own feelings, separate from Red’s again but (terrifyingly) still the same. Still burning like coals, still deep and vast and more than he knew what to do with.

 

But… at least he knew where to find Keith.

 

Red nudged at him again.

 

“Okay,” he said aloud, “I’m going. Hold your horses, I’m going.” And he headed down the hall, trying to ignore her purring.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Lance entered the pod bay with hesitant steps. The sound was amplified in the wide space, bouncing off the glossy shells of the escape pods and echoing back to him.

 

Keith’s voice rang out as Lance approached the nearest ship.

 

“Go away, Shiro. I don’t want to spar, I don’t need to eat, I’m fine. You don’t need to check in on me, okay?”

 

Lance took another step, until he could see Keith’s legs on the other side of the pod, knees drawn up to his chest. It looked like he was wearing his Marmora suit.

 

“It’s not Shiro,” Lance said carefully, and rounded the corner.

 

Keith looked up in shock, emotions flashing across his face too fast to read. He scrambled up, almost knocking heads with Lance in his haste, not seeming to know what to do with his limbs.

 

“Lance- I, shit--”

 

Lance caught his shoulders with steadying hands. He realized how close they were just as Keith ripped himself away, taking a staggering step back. His face was flushed bright red, and Lance was sure his own face wasn’t any better.

 

“Hey,” he said weakly. 

 

“Hey,” Keith echoed, staring at him. His eyes were red-rimmed. The foot or two he’d put between them felt like a vast distance. 

 

“So…” Lance cringed. “So, I’m… I’m okay.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to figure out what to say. “I’m not, like…. possessed or anything. Turns out.”

 

Keith hugged his arms around himself. “Yeah. I know. I was there when Pidge read out the scan results. They said everything was good.” He shrugged.

 

Lance felt a flash of hurt. Keith hadn’t even stayed to see him come out of the pod…? To make sure he was actually okay, after all they’d been through? That stung a bit.

 

“So why did you…” Lance tried to rephrase. “You, um.”

 

“What?” Keith glared. 

 

“The rest of the team was there when I came out.” Lance shrugged, falling automatically back on his usual defense of seeming nonchalant. “I… you know, I almost thought you cared. Thought we had a bonding moment. Or whatever.” Keith’s face clouded over, and he cringed internally.  _ Lance, you fucking idiot. _

 

“Lance, you  _ fucking _ idiot,” Keith snarled. He took a step forward and shoved Lance in the chest, none too gently. “You have no  _ idea _ what I care about. No fucking clue, because you don’t even  _ remember  _ anything I’ve ever fucking  _ said  _ to you.” His eyes were huge and wild, crackling with anger that bordered on desperation.

 

Lance stepped back. He deflected Keith’s hands, batting them gently away. “Hey, man, I-”

 

“ _ No _ ,” said Keith, “No. I can’t do this anymore.” He picked up a bag that Lance hadn’t noticed, and slammed a hand into the side of the pod, opening its cockpit. “I can’t be around you. Not when you’re gonna be perfectly okay, perfectly fine except for- oh, right, that little memory thing.” He slung the bag up into the cockpit, and took a shuddering breath, both hands braced on the pod’s slick side. “Not when there’s nothing I could say- nothing that could  _ possibly  _ explain when you’re  _ never _ going to understand what we-”

 

He stiffened, hissing in a breath as Lance slid a hand up his shoulder to the place where it met his neck. 

 

“So show me.”

 

Keith turned slowly, staring at him in disbelief. His shoulder was tense under Lance’s hand.

 

“What did you just say?”

 

Lance took another step, closing the distance between them. Carefully, he threaded his hand into Keith’s hair. Keith let out his breath, and closed his eyes, face tight with emotion.

“I said, show me.” Lance took a shaky breath, looking down at him from his slight height difference. Keith’s eyes flickered open, darting between Lance’s, brows furrowed with disbelief, and he fisted his hands in the front of Lance’s shirt, gripping with the strength Lance remembered.

 

_ Just kiss him. You’ve done it before, just do it. It’s not that hard. He’s right there.  _ Lance hesitated, but Keith was still frowning up at him with those wide violet eyes, and, well….

 

Lance was weak for it. 

 

He closed the short distance and tilted his head, pressing his lips to Keith’s. Keith sighed out through his nose and hummed in the back of his throat, pushing back up against him, into him, tilting his head for a better angle. Lance’s hand skimmed up his side to rest against the small of his back, and the other hand tightened in his hair, coaxing out another one of those small noises.

 

The kiss was familiar and perfect; new and thrilling, sending his blood singing through his veins, but holding all of the ease and comfort of long practice. Keith’s smell, his taste, the feel of his hands gripping as tight as they could- how had he forgotten this? How could he have ever forgotten?

 

Keith’s hands tightened on his shirt, and then abruptly shoved him away. 

 

Lance staggered back, panting. Keith wiped his mouth. 

 

“What the  _ fuck? _ ” he yelled. 

 

“Keith-”

 

“No. What the  _ fuck _ was that?” Keith held one hand to his face without seeming to realize it, eyes darting everywhere- and then his brows furrowed and he glared up at Lance. “You- you  _ knew?  _ All along?”

 

“No-” Lance reached for him, “No, I remembered, I only just-”

 

“You  _ remembered?”  _

 

“I-”

 

“And you didn’t open with that? When were you going to  _ tell  _ me?”

 

Lance caught his shoulders, and Keith grabbed at his hands, still wild-eyed.

 

“I was trying to, I swear, I just… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.” Keith glared up at him, and Lance babbled on. “I… I remembered in the pod, I remembered everything, Red had it all, all along, and I just had to listen to her. I just… you weren’t there, when I came out. And I thought maybe you wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, that maybe it wasn’t what I thought it was. I thought you might not want me to remember, that if I told you, you’d… it’d be over.” 

 

Keith’s face softened, and his eyes searched Lance’s. “How could you think that?”

Lance shrugged, looking away. “You told me before that you didn’t want me to remember.”

 

“Because I didn’t want you to remember being tortured! Not because I didn’t want you to remember…” he gestured weakly between them, “this… you know… us.”

 

Lance perked up, feeling a spark of hope light up his chest. “So there is an  _ us _ ?”

 

Keith gave him a flat look. “Would I be here if there wasn’t?”

 

Lance shrugged, tugging him a little closer. “I don’t know. Maybe you shack up with all the pretty boys you get thrown in prison with.” He smirked a little, confidence gaining ground.

 

Keith sighed, glancing around the pod bay. “Do you know why I was in here?” He rested a hand lightly on Lance’s chest.

 

“Why you were brooding here instead of waiting with bated breath for me to come out of the pod? Absolutely not. Enlighten me.”

 

“Only you camp out like that,” Keith’s mouth quirked up a bit before he looked away. “And anyway, I was considering going back to the Blades.”

 

Lance frowned, fighting the urge to tug him closer. “But-”

 

“Not anymore, idiot.” Keith scowled, but glanced back up at Lance, ears turning pink. “But… well, obviously I was happy you were okay. But the idea of you coming out… of being fine, of treating us all the same, but not remembering anymore. I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t face having to live with you not knowing, never remembering.” He let out a long breath. “If we’d never been stuck together, we would have never… you know. It wouldn’t have happened. You’d never in a million years have gotten with me by choice.” He shrugged. “It would have been easier to go back to the Blades.”

 

“But you hated living with the Blades.”

 

Keith shrugged again, looking away. “Yeah. But it would’ve been better than here.”

 

Lance lifted a hand, and gently tilted Keith’s chin up. “Hey. Hey, look at me, mullet.” He smiled, a little, lopsided thing, and tucked a strand of Keith’s hair out of the way. “Just so you know… it wasn’t that we were in prison.” Keith frowned and opened his mouth, but Lance cut him off. “Nope, no, just listen. It wasn’t that you were my ‘only choice’ or whatever.” He made air quotes with his free hand, gesturing loosely. “Even when I didn’t remember all of that, I still wanted you. I still thought about you. That was just, just a catalyst, I guess. It sped things up, but…” he shrugged, turning red again. “It would’ve happened again. It might not have been the same, but… I still would’ve fallen for you. Over and over again, if I had to. Even when I didn’t remember, I already kind of had.” 

 

The words came out of him in a rush, and he fell silent. Keith was looking at him strangely, expression unreadable, and Lance felt nervousness churn in his gut. The silence stretched on, and Lance squirmed uncomfortably.

 

“Should I not have-”

 

He didn’t get to finish the sentence before Keith grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. Lance floundered for a second, before wrapping his arms around the shorter boy, tugging him firmly against him. Keith tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and Lance revelled in the taste of him.

 

Lance pulled back for air, panting, and Keith tipped their foreheads together, lips curved up at the edges.

 

“Will you stay?” Lance asked.

 

“Do you even have to ask that?” 

 

Keith kissed him again, and Lance pushed him back against the side of the pod, trapping him between his arms. He slid his hands up into Lance’s hair, blunt nails scraping gently against his scalp. Lance shivered, and pressed him more firmly against the curved side of the pod. 

 

Keith made a low noise, arching up into Lance. He kissed the corner of his mouth, and then his jaw, working his way down the side of his neck. He wrapped his arms tightly around Keith’s back, and rested his head in the crook of his neck, curling his whole body around the slighter boy.

 

Keith traced his fingers from Lance’s hair down his spine. “I missed you,” he murmured, and Lance felt his voice vibrate through both their torsos. He quirked a smile.

 

“I was right here.” He tried to contain his smile, but Keith must have been able to hear it in his tone, because he swatted at Lance’s shoulder.

 

“You know what I meant.”

 

Lance nuzzled deeper into his shoulder, kissing the crook of his neck. “I know.”  _ I’m sorry, _ he wanted to say, but just then the Castle’s intercom system crackled to life, and Pidge’s voice echoed around them.

 

“Keith, Lance! I know you’re making out in a corner somewhere! If you’re well enough to smooch, you’re well enough to help, and we have shit to do!” Lance muffled his laughter into Keith’s shoulder, as the disembodied voice went on. “Get your asses up to the bridge, NOW! I- No, what, Allura- Augh!” 

 

The static resolved into Allura’s voice. 

 

“Paladins, to the bridge please. We have work to do. Now, please.” 

 

Lance lifted his head to grin at Keith. “Pidge is probably getting lectured for swearing on the comms again.”

 

Keith grinned back. “Probably.” He pushed up and off the pod to kiss Lance again, hands weaving up and over his shoulders. Lance responded with equal enthusiasm. Keith tasted faintly of spices, sharp and sweet. He kissed exactly how Lance remembered; 

 

“Now, please!” The intercom buzzed, and Keith pulled back. He wound his fingers into Lance’s short hair, arms draped over his shoulders, smirking.

 

“Should we head up there?”

 

His eyes were sparkling with mirth, and it was so unfamiliar and unexpected that for a second, Lance was sure he was dreaming again. There was no way he could be here; both of them safe, both of them somehow happy. He was imagining this. He was about to wake up again strapped down in an alien lab, curled on the floor of a cell. It was too good to be true.

 

He closed his eyes, felt the weight of Keith’s arms on his shoulders, warm and real; felt the hum of the Castle below his feet; felt Red, purring satisfied somewhere in the near distance.

 

No, he wasn’t dreaming. This was real.

 

Inside of him, he could still feel the words unspoken, waiting to be let out; the conversations and confessions that he and Keith still had to address. They hadn’t been able to talk everything out yet, not really; and maybe there were things that they would never be able to talk about, but that was okay.

 

It didn’t matter. They were safe. They had each other, they had their team around them, a family to love and trust and pull them out of their nightmares. Lance would guard Keith with his life, and he knew Keith would do the same; and in the moments in between they could heckle each other, bicker, rest easy knowing the other was there. There was a spark between them just waiting to grow into something more, to catch and burn brighter than the stars.

 

He grinned.

 

“They can wait a little bit longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Happy Season 5! I'm binging it later today and I'm trying to avoid spoilers, so.... if Shiro's not actually a clone, guess this fic is already out of date ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I wanted to finish this last chapter before the new season came out, but my laptop took a bath in coffee, so that didn't happen (i'm literally writing this on a borrowed computer right now). But now it's done!!! I can't believe it!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so much for following along on this wild adventure with me. This was my first ever fic, and literally the first prose project I've managed to finish, ever, and that's 100% because of how much feedback and encouragement I got from all of you. Seriously, thank you so, so much for following and for commenting <3 it means more to me than I can say.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm planning on starting a new fic soon, so watch for that! In the meantime, I'm hoping to put up a second chapter of [How We Stay Whole](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12576468/chapters/28645812). Also, at some point, there will probably be a smutty epilogue added to the end of this one because BY GOD these poor boys deserve it by now. My poor suffering boys. Anyway, watch this space! :)
> 
>    
> Thanks again <3 <3 and please comment or message me!  
>  
> 
> [follow me on tumblr](http://ad-asterism.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
>  


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smutty, indulgent epilogue you've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT UP KIDS IM BACK ON MY BULLSHIT
> 
> A large amount of this is just smut, but there's also some fluff at the beginning. If you're not interested in reading anything explicit but you want the fluff, stop at the page break. <3 enjoy!

  
  


Keith was exhausted. 

 

He was on his way back to the castle, hands on the controls, blinking back his exhaustion as the stars blurred by. It was lucky that Black could more or less steer herself, because he was almost nodding off in the pilot seat.

 

They’d spent the last week fighting to free another system from Galra control. They’d only had to form Voltron once, but they’d been on-duty for more or less the whole time: ferrying refugees, treating with the planets’ bureaucratic governments, guarding other Coalition ships while they brought in relief supplies. It had been one thing after another after another: and Keith had spent the last three days on one of the planets’ moons, clearing out the last pockets of Galra who’d holed up in its warrenlike cave systems. He hadn’t eaten anything but protein bars in at least three days, and hadn’t had anything but catnaps for at least five.

 

He also hadn’t seen any of the other paladins except in official meetings. Which was fine, as far as Black-paladin-responsibilities and whatnot, as far as his official duties went…. but not fine, in that he wasn’t allowed to touch Lance in the official meetings. (Allura had implemented this rule after the incident on Nget-lang, and while it sucked, Keith agreed that it was definitely necessary if they wanted to avoid another intergalactic scandal.)

 

So he hadn’t had any touch for days; no soft brushes and winks in passing, no shameless ass-grabs on the bridge. No cheek kissing or curling up skin to skin at night.

 

His daily physical contact with Lance was a strange sort of luxury, something he’d never craved this much before. When they’d been imprisoned together, it’d become something he’d taken for granted, a comfort he’d gotten used to in the middle of a nightmare. 

 

Then, of course, he’d had it taken from him abruptly, when Lance lost his memory; and he’d been shocked, over those few days, by how much he’d missed it. How much he’d come to rely on it. How much he’d come to rely on Lance. It wasn’t something he was used to, relying on someone else so much- he’d learned to be independent, to get along on his own, and he’d been totally blindsided by how much he’d come to rely on Lance during those months in prison. Those few days had been Keith’s own personal hell.

 

And then, of course, he’d gotten him back.

 

Over the last few months, he and Lance had gone from desperate and hungry to comfortable and easy with one another, trading touches and jokes and almost imperceptible smiles. It was an ease that had grown slowly, cautiousness vanishing along with his loneliness. Keith had barely noticed how used to it he’d grown.

 

He was surprised at how much he missed it now.

 

It was just another mission, after all. He’d at least been able to talk to the others, make sure they were okay, make sure everyone was taking care of their individual jobs. They were all busy, sure, but it was fine. He knew they could all handle themselves, and that they could contact him if they needed him. Hell, he’d felt them all when they’d formed Voltron; they were practically in his head, closer than anyone should ever need to be, so it wasn’t like he had any right to miss anyone. He didn’t miss anyone. He was fine.

 

That was what he was telling himself, anyway. Still, as the pale speck ahead of him resolved into the spires of the Castle, he felt relief well up in him, mixing with his exhaustion and putting him in a strange mood. 

 

When Black touched down in the hangar, he let go of the controls and let his head flop back, closing his eyes. 

 

He couldn’t remember when he’d last been this tired. For that matter, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without being held. He wanted to go to bed, cuddle his boyfriend, and sleep for ten thousand years.

 

Black rumbled under him, and he smiled a little. 

 

“Yeah, you’re right.” He stretched his arms above his head, twisting his torso, and felt his back pop satisfyingly. “We did good.” He patted the console, and stood up, stretching again; then headed down the ramp to find the rest of his team. 

 

Through Black, he could tell that all the other lions were already in their hangars; he was the last one back. They were probably all waiting for him so they could debrief and go to bed.

 

His footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as he made his way through the Castle. There was no one in the lounge, and no one in the healing bay, for once. The bridge was empty, hovering holographs showing that the ship was on a rest cycle. He let his feet carry him to the kitchen, expecting to find the rest of the team gathered around the table. To his surprise, though, the doors slid open to reveal a mostly empty kitchen: spotless counter, dishes drying in the rack, table empty of paladins.

 

Well, mostly empty. Keith smiled. 

 

At the far end of the table was Lance, slumped over in his chair, fast asleep. His face was hidden in his arms, folded loosely on the table. He still had a tablet held loosely in his fingers, and a series of holodisplays hovering over the table all around him. As Keith came closer, he could see that it was the updated stats and maps from the mission they’d just finished: lists of supplies, colour-coded maps, the details of various missions and contracts and prisoner exchanges. It was all the information Keith would have to review before they met with the Coalition leaders again, everything he needed to know offhand as Black Paladin and be able to reference at a moment’s notice.

 

He tilted the tablet in confusion, and felt warmth bloom in his chest. Lance had been making him a cheat sheet. 

 

God, he loved this boy so much.

 

Keith let go of the tablet as Lance stirred, blinking and sitting up. He rubbed at his eyes, smiling tiredly up at Keith.

 

“Hey, you’re back!” 

 

Keith leaned on the table, feeling his restlessness still to a halt in his chest.

 

“Yeah,” he said, “Sorry I’m so late. Am I the last one in?”

 

Lance nodded. “Everyone else’s already gone to bed.” He rubbed a hand across his face and waved his arm to dismiss the glowing display over the table. “We were all kinda wrecked, so Allura said we could just do the debrief in the morning.”

 

He went to pick up the tablet, but Keith caught his hand and turned it over, weaving their fingers together.

 

“You should’ve gone too,” he said softly. “You didn’t need to wait up for me.”

 

Lance kissed his knuckles. “I wanted to.” He tugged Keith down, sliding a hand up his side, and Keith smiled, letting himself be pulled down into his lap. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in years.” He wrapped his arm around Keith’s still-armoured back, and Keith felt himself melt- well, as much as you could melt while in full armour. 

 

“I know.” 

 

Lance turned Keith’s hand over, kissing his palm and then his wrist, movements careful, gentle. Keith’s breath caught, and he twitched as the sensations sent a shiver down his spine. 

 

Lance must have felt it, because he chuckled. 

 

“Missed me that much, did you?” His hands moved to Keith’s sides, and he began to undo his armour. 

 

Keith snorted, but he lifted his arms, letting Lance pull apart his armour and tug it off. Draping his arms over Lance’s shoulders, he let his face fall onto the top of his head, smiling into his hair. It was soft as ever, smelling of his familiar shampoo, and he breathed in the scent hungrily. He let his eyes close, breathing in Lance’s closeness: his smell, his breath against Keith’s neck, the gentle clicks of the clasps coming apart, Lance’s fingertips brushing his undersuit as he gently removed it piece by piece. 

 

“I did,” he mumbled without moving. He could feel the smile still stretching his face, and the faint heat creeping up his cheeks. “Miss you, I mean.”

 

It was the kind of thing Keith would never normally say- but it was so much easier, somehow, to say dumb things like this when his face was hidden in Lance’s hair.

 

Lance’s arms snaked around his back, tugging him closer, and he buried his face in Keith’s shoulder. “I missed you too.” He squeezed, and Keith relaxed into him, letting his fingers trail up to bury themselves in Lance’s hair.

 

They stayed like that for a long moment. Keith’s breathing slowed, matching itself to Lance’s, and for the first time in days, he let himself feel everything he’d been repressing; all the loneliness, the exhaustion, the hunger, how starved he was for a friendly touch. It all crashed over him, and he let it out in a long breath, feeling something unknot in his chest, a tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding. With his eyes closed, and Lance right here holding him, he was the most relaxed he’d been in days.

 

Lance said something, and Keith pulled himself out of his thoughts.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, don’t fall asleep on me here,” said Lance, pulling back to look Keith in the face. His face was lit up with fondness and a wry grin.

 

“Mmmrgh,” said Keith, trying to burrow his way back into his koala position, “why not, though.”

 

“Well, for one-” Lance poked him in the side “-because you smell  _ terrible _ .”

 

“Rude,” Keith muttered. 

 

“Just calling ‘em as I see ‘em.”

 

“I‘m the Black Paladin of Voltron.  _ You  _ smell.”

 

Lance laughed. “Come on, sweetheart.” He nudged at Keith’s shoulders until the other grudgingly shuffled off his lap. “You need a shower. And then we really do need to get to bed.”

 

Keith stood and stretched, his black undersuit feeling light and cool with all of the armour removed. Lance’s eyes traced down his body as he stretched, and Keith felt his face go hot at the attention.

 

He was tired, yeah, and he’d been about to agree, but then he paused. He’d suddenly been struck with the single best idea he’d had, maybe ever. “I mean… do we _ need _ to go to bed right now?”

 

“Bed,” Lance said firmly, dragging his eyes away from Keith. “Shower, then bed. Do you wanna meet me in my room? Or yours?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes, and took Lance’s hand, tugging him behind him out the door. Lance turned pink.

 

“Ooooooor I can come to the showers with you. That’s fine too.” Keith didn’t reply, but instead took a left off the main corridor, and hit the button for the elevator. 

 

“Keith,” said Lance, “you know the showers are off the sleeping wing, right? You know, like….the other way?

 

Keith shrugged. (Sometimes this whole strong-and-silent shit was useful.)

 

“Keeeeeeith,” Lance whined, as the elevator dinged open. He followed him in. “I thought we were going to bed?”

 

Keith shrugged again, struggling to keep a straight face. “I thought I smelled?”

 

The elevator doors started to close, and Keith hit the button for the pool level. Lance rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah, which is why we’re going the  _ wrong way _ for you to-”

 

Keith didn’t let him finish his sentence. As the elevator started moving, he pressed Lance against the smooth wall and kissed him, hard. 

 

Lance was motionless for a second, but then his brain seemed to catch up to his body, and he kissed back, sliding his hands up Keith’s sides to fist in the back of his suit. Keith shifted his angle, nipping at Lance’s lips, and he could feel the twitch of Lance’s dick against his belly, registering his interest. 

 

He pulled back, leaving Lance gasping, and let his hands rest loosely on Lance’s shoulders.

 

Keith let a wicked grin spill across his face. “There’s no privacy in the Paladin showers,” he said. 

 

Lance licked his lips. “There’s- not exactly any privacy in the pool either,” he said, brows slightly furrowed. The elevator dinged.

 

“Trust me,” Keith said. He pulled out of Lance’s grip, and the doors slid open.

 

Keith breezed past the main doors for the pool, and headed right, where the corridor dead-ended at a window to space.  _ This had better work, _ he thought to himself. Lance followed, watching curiously as Keith pressed a hand to a carved blue whorl in the wall. 

 

His eyes went wide as a whole section of the paneling vanished. 

 

“Oh shit,” said Lance, and Keith took a second to appreciate his expression, mentally filing it away.

 

Lance took a step forward, and stuck out an arm, waving it in the doorway. He hesitated, shooting a questioning glance at Keith, and then ducked through the opening as if expecting it to turn back into a wall at any second. Keith waited a beat; and, as if on cue, heard Lance yell: “Holy SHIT!”

 

Keith, fighting down his grin, took his hand off the wall, and followed him inside. 

 

Lance was standing in the centre of a wide, semicircular room. Directly ahead of him was a curved observation window that took up the entire wall. It gave the illusion of looking straight out into space, as though there was nothing there. Immediately in front of the window was a huge, round tub- so big that it could practically be considered a pool in itself. The surface of the tub went all the way to the window, and it seemed to have some feature that made it look as though there was no edge, so the pool seemed to go on straight into space. There were some sort of lights under the surface, too, that made it shimmer and dance with motes of light, looking like a field of stars. Off to the left was a glass door that Keith knew led to a spacious shower and sauna. Built in around the other walls were small, leafy plants, shelves with folded towels and soaps, and tasteful Altean crystals giving off a warm glow.

 

Lance seemed to have momentarily lost the power of speech, so Keith came up behind him, sliding his arms around his sides. He hoped that was a good sign. 

 

“What the  _ fuck _ even is this place?” Lance said, turning in his arms. “How long have you known about this place? And- is that a fucking  _ infinity pool hot tub? _ Keith, what the fuck?”

 

He shrugged. “I just stumbled on it. Before the last mission, you know?” He stopped struggling to hide his grin, and let it slide over his face, sly and wolflike. “I thought you might like it.” 

 

“Like it?” Lance was still reeling. “Do  _ I  _ like the… the fucking sex den space prefect’s bathroom?” He caught sight of Keith’s face, and swallowed hard, face turning red. Keith watched the movement of his Adam’s apple, and felt his grin widen. He didn’t feel tired at all anymore- in fact, he couldn’t be more awake.

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Lance said, still redder than his Lion. 

 

“No…” Keith tried to sound innocent, but squarely missed the mark. Lance’s hands came up to his shoulders, sliding up his neck and into his hair, and Keith shivered, eyes briefly closing. “I just… y’know, you like swimming, and stuff, it seemed….yeah.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, though, and heard it creeping into his own voice, but he was distracted by the feeling of Lance’s fingernails scratching gently up his scalp.

 

“You’re such a piece of shit,” Lance muttered, and kissed him. 

 

Keith met him warmly, craning his neck to get a better angle, and Lance’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling an embarrassing little noise out of his throat. The sensation traveled down to his groin, and Lance hummed happily in response, using his free hand to wrap around Keith’s waist and pull him closer.

 

Lance kissed like he fought. 

 

Most of the time, he had this restless, foot-tapping energy that practically radiated out of him; the same energy that had him singing down the corridors and draping himself over Keith at odd hours to whine about his hair or his facial routine or the latest gossip from the mice. 

 

But sometimes- like, for instance now- all that energy narrowed down into this single-minded focus, an intensity that always felt like a spotlight beaming straight out of him. Keith saw him shift into that mode sometimes when he was piloting Red, when the Galra made him really angry- and, if Keith was lucky, on nights like these, when they hadn’t seen each other in too long and it was just too much for both of them. Lance’s serious side didn’t come out often, but when it did… oof.

 

Lance would probably laugh himself silly if Keith ever tried to stumble through saying this out loud, but it was incredibly hot.

 

Keith broke away from Lance’s lips to kiss his way down the other’s sharp jaw, and Lance let go of his hair to run his hands down his spine. Keith nipped gently at the spot just below his ear, and Lance gasped, breath catching. His grip tightened on Keith’s suit, the thick fabric bunching under his hands, and Keith shivered as it moved over his skin, friction delicious.  _ God,  _ he was still wearing his flight suit- and Lance was in his casual clothes, that asshole, how was Keith supposed to check him out that way?  _ Too many clothes _ .

 

He skimmed his hands up Lance’s sides, and started to push the jacket off his shoulders. As Lance shrugged it off, he pulled Keith’s face back to him, kissing him again as Keith’s hands slid up his abs, rucking Lance’s shirt up and out of his way. 

 

Lance twitched, then laughed, and Keith felt the curve of his smile against his lips. “Easy there, Samurai,” he said, and leaned back long enough to shed his shirt onto the floor. Keith drank in his lean torso, and then stopped, noting the fresh bruises paling along his ribs. He frowned, touching one with a gentle fingertip.

 

“These are new,” he said. “You didn’t say anything about being hurt.” His eyes flickered up to Lance’s in time to see the other paladin force a smile. 

 

“Forget about them,” Lance shrugged. “Don’t you think we should focus on getting you out of this gross suit?” He went for the fastening on Keith’s back, but Keith stilled him with a hand on his chest, pushing him gently away to run a hand down his ribs.

 

“I thought you were only doing sniper duty this mission?” Lance shrugged again, and this time Keith could see how careful the gesture was, how he limited the movement to not pull at his ribs. 

 

“There was a little tussle at the docking bay on our way out today. Just some last pockets of insurgents. It really wasn’t a big deal.”

 

“It’s a big deal if you get hurt, Lance.” Keith frowned. “We talked about this. No more dumb heroics.”

 

“Yeah, for either of us,” Lance said. “But that’s not the same as fighting, Keith, we’re in a war. Are you trying to tell me you didn’t get in a single fight this mission?” Keith pressed his lips together, and Lance sighed. “Exactly.” 

 

In the soft lighting, his blue eyes seemed to glow, and Keith felt a stab in his chest- it was unfair how  _ pretty _ Lance was. It was impossible to be mad at him when he was glowing down at him, all blue eyes and soft hair, and….  _ yeah _ , maybe Keith was being a bit unreasonable. So sue him, he hadn’t slept in like, three days. 

 

He sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry, I just…” his mouth twisted, and he looked away. “I just worry about you, you know?”

 

Lance put a hand to his heart. “Keith Kogane, apologizing? Admitting to having  _ feelings?  _ Do mine ears deceive me?”

 

Keith groaned and swatted at him, but Lance’s other arm tightened at his waist. “Shut up!!” 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen! A historic occasion!”

 

Keith could feel the smile stretching his cheeks. “I admit all the time to having feelings!”

 

“He has FEELINGS! SAY IT AIN’T SO!” 

 

Keith rolled his eyes, and Lance pressed a kiss to his neck, burying his face in the crook of Keith’s shoulder, laughing. He pulled back and made a face. 

 

“You still smell.” 

 

Keith lifted an eyebrow. “What are you gonna do about it?” 

 

Lance tilted his head to the side. He opened his mouth, but then paused considering, and Keith saw a wicked gleam in his eyes. He licked his lips, anticipating Lance’s kiss; but suddenly Lance ducked down and shifted his grip on his waist, and he was lifting him up off his feet. And- what? Wait a second-

 

Lance took two unsteady steps, and Keith realized what he was about to do just a second too late.

 

“Lance, NO-” he yelled, just as Lance tossed him bodily into the huge hot tub. 

 

Keith splashed down into the warm water, barely feeling the heat through his flight suit. He had a second of disorientation before his feet found the bottom and he could stand. 

 

Surfacing, he shoved his hair out of his face and leveled a glare at Lance, who was standing on the side of the tub, cackling. 

 

“You’re an asshole,” he said flatly.

 

“Yeah,” Lance gasped, “But - holy shit, babe, oh my god, you should have seen your face.”

 

Keith splashed him.

  
  


____________________________________________

  
  
  


By the time their water fight died down, the whole floor of the room was soaked, and so was Lance.

 

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” he told Keith, as he peeled off his jeans. Keith watched in appreciation as he kicked his boxers off his toned calves.

 

“You were the one who threw me in the first place,” Keith said. He started undoing the seals on his flight suit, face pink.

 

“And that was hilarious.” Lance slid into the hot tub, and his whole body seemed to slump into a sigh. “Oh my god,” he said, “this feels amazing.”

 

“Hmm, wish I could relate,” Keith said dryly, gesturing at his still-suited body. Lance smiled.

 

“C’mere, dummy,” he said, beckoning Keith over. Keith rolled his eyes, but stepped closer, and Lance began to peel the flight suit off with careful hands. 

 

Between the two of them, they managed to get the suit off with only minimal distractions, and then Lance tugged Keith over to one of the pump jugs at the edge of the tub. 

 

“One of these has to be shampoo,” he muttered, pressing down on a dispenser. The gel that came out was viscous and shimmery, and Lance rubbed it experimentally between his hands. It didn’t lather. Lance went wide-eyed.

 

“Uhhhh...NOPE not that one…” Keith frowned at him for a second, before recognizing it. It was the same sort of Altean lube that Coran had practically thrown at him back when he and Lance first got together. He felt his face turn scarlet.

 

“What kind of a kinky sex bathroom…” Lance muttered. He busied himself at the jugs for a second, and came back with a handful of shampoo.

 

Keith had never had anyone wash his hair before he’d started dating Lance- and like so many other things about dating Lance, he’d been surprised by how much he liked it. He liked the feeling of Lance’s fingers combing through his hair, and he liked the sense of decadence, the gentleness behind the motion. He liked how much care Lance took, working the soap from his roots to the ends of his hair, and he liked the little kisses the other boy peppered over his shoulders as he washed him. 

 

“Okay, dunk again,” said Lance, and Keith did, savouring the heat closing over his head, the water swirling around his body from the power of the hidden jets. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, getting rid of the last of the soap, and then paused underwater. He held his breath, listening to the way that the world sounded different, feeling the currents tug on his hair; and felt the very last of his tension draining away in the rushing heat. 

 

He was safe. He was home. He was with Lance.

 

Keith let the currents pull him then, using his hands to keep him upright, and slowly rose up to the surface again.

 

Lance had floated over to the star wall, sculling gently in the moving water. He was submerged up to his shoulders, hands outstretched, staring out at the expanse of space moving slowly past. The steam of the hot tub rose around him, and the soft glow from its surface lit him from underneath, and the stars hung endlessly suspended behind him; and it was possible that he was the most beautiful thing Keith had ever seen. 

 

He turned and stood up in the water as Keith approached him, wet torso gleaming in the low light. In this light, with the steam rising around him, his scars were almost invisible, but Keith knew from memory where they were, could trace their faint outlines running down Lance’s side, his hips, his chest.

 

Keith knew Lance’s body by now. He’d run his tongue over every inch of skin, every scar, every bruise as they appeared and faded like strange tattoos, and he’d traced his hands over him in the dark, reminding him with every touch that he existed, that he was needed, that he was loved. Somehow, though, he never stopped wanting to touch him; he never stopped being hungry for Lance’s smooth skin, his quick hands and his sly mouth. He wanted and wanted and _ wanted,  _ and most of all he wanted right  _ now _ , because even though it had barely been a week it still felt way too long.

 

Lance tilted his head, eyes hooded, smiling a little as though he knew exactly what Keith was thinking. He felt as though the heat of the tub was swirling through his body, pooling in his groin. 

 

He took another step closer, until they were barely a breath apart.

 

Lance’s mouth quirked sideways, and Keith knew- he just  _ knew-  _ that his idiot boy was about to break the moment with a quip; so just as Lance opened his mouth, Keith surged forward and caught it with a hard, hungry kiss.

 

Lance made a surprised noise, and stumbled backwards. Their tongues met warmly, and Lance pushed back, sighing into his mouth. His hands flew up out of the water to steady themselves on Keith’s back, the sudden pressure hot and slick on his bare skin, pulling Keith closer. Keith twined his fingers into Lance’s hair, and felt their bodies crash together.

 

In the hot, moving water, Lance was all solid muscle and soft, slick skin under Keith’s hands. He tucked him closer, and their bodies fit together in that hungry, familiar way, skin on skin and exactly what he needed, giving yet firm.

 

Keith tightened his grip on Lance’s hair, and used his leverage to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Lazily, he explored his boyfriend’s mouth, rutting his hips helplessly against him, reveling in the hot slide of Lance’s cock against his belly in the swirling water. Lance made a little noise, and it only stoked the fire in his belly.

 

Keith broke the kiss,and ran his hands down Lance’s chest. His fingertips explored slowly, tracing a nipple, wandering down his sides before plunging beneath the surface. Lance inhaled sharply.

 

Finding him hard underwater, Keith grinned, running his fingers lightly up the silky underside of his cock. He let his fingertips wander the skin of Lance’s thighs, running his fingers gently over his balls before retreating again.

 

Tipping his forehead against Keith’s, Lance let out a long, shaky breath. 

 

“Tease.”

 

“Mm?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

 

“Mhm.” Keith continued his treatment, and Lance let out another low noise, eyes closing. 

 

Keith leaned in close, letting his hand close oh-so-carefully around Lance’s dick, giving it one experimental pump.

 

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” he breathed.

 

Lance eyes snapped open. He caught Keith’s wrist, and pulled it away, pinning both of his hands in one of his own. He wrapped his other hand around Keith’s back, pulling them flush together. 

 

“How ‘bout I just show you?” There was a teasing glint in his eye.

 

Keith didn’t bother to answer. He kissed him instead, pulling his hands free and burying them in Lance’s hair. Lance shifted, sliding a thigh between his, and Keith gasped, the sensations multiplying and shivering up his spine. He nipped at Keith’s lower lip, trailing his mouth down Keith’s jaw to work his way down his neck. He sucked at the juncture of his shoulder, grazing it with his teeth, and then bit down gently, raking his nails down Keith’s back.

 

Keith jerked under him, gasping, and Lance’s palms flattened on his hips, pulling them flush together and letting Keith grind down on his muscular thigh. The feelings of skin on skin, of Lance’s lips exploring his neck, of their chests pressed together, their legs tangling underwater- it was almost too much, too good, and Keith could feel it building in him like a tidal wave.

 

_ Fuck _ , it felt good to be touched. But it wasn’t  _ enough. _

 

Lance, it seemed, had the same idea, because he spun Keith around, crowding him back against the edge of the tub. His ass met the tiled wall, and Lance planted his hands on the lip of the tub, caging him between his arms where the water ran over the edge. He pushed his hips sharply into Keith’s, and Keith heard himself keen-  _ god _ , that felt amazing- and then Lance was kissing him again with that sharpshooter focus.

 

This kiss was longer, and messier. Lance’s hands slid in from the wall again and traced their way up his back, and Keith reached for him.

 

“Lance,” he panted, between kisses, “fuck-  _ Lance _ , fuck, I need you to fuck me.”

 

Lance rutted sharply against him again, and their cocks dragged together underwater. Keith felt a noise rip out of his throat. Lance smirked.

 

“How bad do you need it?” His hand snaked down, wrapping around both their dicks in the rolling heat. He pumped experimentally- once, twice, and  _ god,  _ the pressure was  _ killing  _ him.

 

He buried his face in Lance’s shoulder. Lance stroked them slowly.

 

“So much,” Keith panted.

 

“How much?” He twisted his wrist, rubbing a thumb over the head, and Keith saw stars.

 

“Lance,” he bit out, “ _ please _ , oh my god.” He turned his head and bit into the crook of his shoulder, muffling his gasps in Lance’s smooth, briny skin.

 

“Mm,” said Lance, “there it is,” and  _ fucking- _ Keith could hear the smirk in his voice. Asshole. He turned his head and bit a little higher, sucking to leave a mark, and Lance jerked in his hold, and Keith could feel it underwater, too, in the way his cock stood a little higher to attention. 

 

Lance flipped Keith around, pinning him to the wall. He leaned over Keith’s back, the warmth of his skin covering his whole body. Keith arched into him, needy. 

 

“Don’t move.” Lance pressed a kiss into the back of Keith’s neck, and then the warmth of him vanished. Keith stayed where Lance left him, staring out into the expanse of stars, trying to ignore his throbbing hard-on. From somewhere behind him, he heard a splash, and then the pump jug of shimmery lube was on the lip of the tub next to him. He rolled his eyes, turning to look over his shoulder at Lance.

 

“We’re really gonna need- what, five litres of lube?”

 

Lance shrugged, a wicked grin spreading over his face. “If you keep looking like that we are.” He winked exaggeratedly.

 

“Oh my god.” Keith rolled his eyes, but felt himself turning pink. In his periphery, he saw Lance coating his fingers in lube, and then he was stepping close behind him. 

 

“I mean it,” Lance said, softer now. “You’re amazing. You look incredible.” He palmed Keith’s ass, pressing a kiss to the base of his spine, and gently dragged a finger over his entrance. The lube was cool after the heat of the tub, and Keith jerked, a whine pulling out of his throat.

 

Lance pressed another kiss, dragging his tongue along Keith’s spine, and slipped his finger in. 

 

Keith let out another unholy noise.

 

“Shhh….” His other hand came up to grip Keith’s hip, steadying and calm. “You feel so good, Keith. So tight for me.” He started to move gently, working him open with practiced motions, and Keith gasped at the pleasant burn. 

 

“Is that okay, babe?”

 

Keith nodded, gripping the tiled edge of the tub. Hot, foaming water rushed over his hands, and he let his eyes drift shut, focusing on sensation. Lance’s hands warm on his hip, working inside him; the jets rushing against his legs, hot water swirling and stroking, Lance’s breath close on his back.

 

Lance added another finger, pausing to lube up again. He worked Keith gently open, murmuring endearments and pressing occasional kisses to his back, squeezing his hips. Keith arched his back, letting out the noises he usually held in; there was no one nearby to hear, and he knew Lance liked it. 

 

Lance twisted his hand, adding a third digit.   
  


“Fuck, Lance!” He twisted in the other boy’s grip. “ _ Please _ , already!” He could hear his voice getting breathless, but he didn’t care. He needed Lance to stop teasing him- he needed him like he needed air.

 

Lance curled his fingers, and Keith convulsed as he hit the sweet spot deep inside him. He pushed himself back, desperately fucking himself on Lance’s fingers, but he stopped him with a hand on his hip, digging in to the muscle with his thumb. Lance kissed the base of his spine again, licking up while he curled his fingers carefully inside, and Keith keened.

 

Lance worked his way up until he was practically draped over Keith’s back, all muscle and wet heat and friction on Keith’s overstimulated skin. He curled his fingers again.

 

“Tell me what you want.” Lance was barely whispering, mouthing a red mark on to the skin below his ear. Keith rolled and whined.

 

“You,” he gasped out, sensations curling through him, and he held in the flood of pleading that wanted to come out of his traitorous lips. “You know what I want, you asshole.”

 

Lance sucked another mark on to his neck, and abruptly pulled his fingers out. Keith heard the pump bottle again, and he was suddenly struck with the need to see him, to watch Lance’s face while he fucked him. He turned himself around in time to see Lance slicking himself up. 

 

Keith swallowed. 

 

“ _ Please.” _

 

Lance looked up at him, eyes crinkling and grin cocky. He crowded Keith up against the lip of the pool again, catching his hair in one hand to tug his face up, and kissed him hungrily. 

 

“You only had to ask,” he said, breaking the kiss, and Keith slid his hands up his chest, roughly grabbing his face to kiss him again.

 

The two of them fumbled Keith up on to the low wall, and he braced his back against the cold glass behind him. Lance tugged him forward, and Keith wrapped his legs around the other boy’s waist, wanting him closer, wanting  _ more more more. _

 

Lance lined himself up with Keith’s entrance, and glanced up one more time, making eye contact. Keith nodded. 

 

He slid in with a gentle rocking motion. 

 

Keith made an extremely embarrassing noise, and his grip tightened on Lance’s shoulder. Lance pulled out, and rocked in again, sliding a little deeper this time; and Keith swiveled his hips, craving more.

 

Lance breathed out a laugh, and pushed into him in long, slow strokes, hitting deeper with each thrust until he was buried in Keith to the hilt. Keith let his eyes flutter closed, savoring the feeling of fullness, the feel of  _ Lance. _

 

He’d missed this.

 

Lance began to move; slowly at first, then picking up speed. The water rushed over the lip, over Keith’s thighs, his hot skin. It felt incredible.  _ Lance  _ felt incredible. He snapped his hips, gaining speed, and bent forward to pepper kisses Keith’s collarbone. He braced his hands on either side of Keith’s body, water rushing over them, and Keith grabbed at his forearms for support, fingers tightening as Lance snapped his hips forward again and again. He gasped, and sensation wracked his body, thrumming through him as Lance found his rhythm. 

 

Lance flipped one of Keith’s legs up over his shoulder, holding it in place, and shifted his angle slightly. The new angle hit deeper in Keith, sweet and painful and driving with every stroke, and Lance sped up, gasping.

 

“ _ God, _ ” he said, “ _ Keith.” _

 

Keith panted, gripping the tiled tub, grabbing at Lance’s shoulders, anywhere he could reach; and his head fell back against the curved glass. Above him, the universe fell away, a dizzying expanse of stars, and he felt them as if they were inside his own body, exploding like supernovae where his body met Lance’s.

 

He was cresting, he was riding a wave of sensation, he was so close; and he put a hand out and back, bracing himself against the cold glass. 

 

“Lance-  _ fuck-” _

 

Lance’s hand slid around his cock, pumping hard, and Keith tipped over the edge, falling into the stars. 

 

He could feel Lance’s breath hot on his collarbone, short, sharp bursts of air sending shivers down his sensitive spine. Lance thrust again, hitting his prostate, and Keith arched his back, overstimulated and keening. Lance thrust once, twice, and then he wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso, burying his face in his neck as his thrusts became jerky and he stopped moving.

 

They stayed there for a long, drawn-out moment. Lance was wrapped around Keith, still inside him and warm everywhere they touched, sending long, shaky breaths skittering down his skin. Keith lifted a hand to run his fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck, and Lance shivered, tightening his arms around Keith’s waist. 

 

Keith laughed. He gradually became aware that he was still leaning against the freezing cold glass, and he nudged at Lance. 

 

“Mm.” Lance pulled out, readjusting his grip, and Keith gasped at the sudden feeling of emptiness. He sat up, using Lance as leverage to pull himself away from the glass, teetering on the narrow lip of the infinity pool.

 

They both fumbled for a second, and then Lance folded Keith more securely into his arms, pulling him back down into the warm water. He adjusted his hold, pulling Keith tight against him, tugging him through the water to rest on one of the hidden benches on the other side.

 

They kissed warmly, and Keith felt like his whole body was being pulled apart by the rippling currents; tired and heavy and hot, as though he could just sink away and dissolve into the water. 

 

He closed his eyes, just letting himself feel. The currents stroking his skin, soothing his bruises. The motion of the jets. Lance’s hands, steady on his hips, and no- he was wrong, he wasn’t going to dissolve in the water; if anything he was just going to melt into Lance. He felt, in some strange way, as though the warm water was flooding into his chest, calm and sure, picking up all the jagged pieces of himself and floating them apart so they wouldn’t scrape at him anymore. 

 

It felt right.

 

“I love you.” Lance’s voice was a soft hum in his chest, almost more sensation than sound.

 

Keith kissed his neck, nuzzled into it. He grinned. 

 

“I know.”

 

Lance paused. Keith fought down his grin, and pulled back to look at him. He looked like he’d just been hit by a train.

 

“Did you just  _ Star Wars  _ me?” 

 

“What?” Keith did his best to look innocent. “What’s Star Wars? I’ve never-”

 

“You- oh my god, you did, you total  _ jerk-” _

 

“Is that a pop culture reference? I never understand pop culture references, remember?”

 

“You are so  _ full  _ of it, oh my god, I will  _ throw you agai-”  _ Lance was cut off as Keith leaned back, hands still caught around Lance’s shoulders, pulling them both off balance and into the water. He came up sputtering, red and adorable. 

 

Keith kissed him. 

 

He pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together, letting his fingers trail down the side of Lance’s face to cup his cheek. 

 

“I love you too,” he said softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -psa: having sex in real hot tubs is not recommended. Real hot tubs have like chemicals and stuff and then your gross body fluids stay in the hot tub and its kinda gross. This is a space hot tub so they can do whatever they want  
> -on another note, hello~! hi! sorry for accidental 7 month hiatus, I've been living in the woods and moving across the entire goddamn continent instead of producing content. BUT i'm going to be writing and posting fic again, hopefully soon!   
> -ALSO on rereading my previous chapters for emotional consistency i’ve discovered that there were like 6 different errors in chapter 8 INCLUDING A WHOLE NOTE IN BRACKETS FROM OLIVIA i can’t believe all of you read the whole damn fic and not a single one of you told me so i could fix it. You’re all dead to me.  
> -im kidding i love you all. tysm for reading, i'd die for all of you
> 
> “They can have as much sex as they want, outlander had a whole episode of nothing but sex!” -olivia


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